Strokes Of Red
by Mizar31
Summary: While spending a free weekend out of town, Lisbon is attacked in her motel room. She survives almost unscathed, but the sign on the wall says that a well known man paid her his visit. How far will she go to protect her best friend, Patrick Jane?
1. Chapter 1

_Strokes Of Red_

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of _The Mentalist_ and do not want to make money or any other profit with this story. The content may be a little tough this time; it is different and darker than the other two stories I wrote.

Chapter 1: A weekend off duty

It was night, a few minutes to three in the morning. The sky was dark although it was summer, and maybe it would start to get gray somewhat in an hour. One proverb says: _The darkest hour is the one just before sunrise_. How true this could be…

She stared down at the cell-phone in her hand, without dialing. She only sat there in the dark room, in the middle of her bed. Everyone around must think that she was still sleeping, and that nothing had happened. Nothing at all. It was dark and quiet. But that wasn´t true…

Something had happened, but it was over – or at least she hoped that. She really did not know how long ago it started and when it came to an end, but it was all silent, so low at noise that none of her neighbors had noticed anything. If there would have been something strange, they would have called Nine-One-One, and there would be police by now.

But she was still alone in the room, and the only remarkable movement she´d done was the to get her cell-phone. And now she did not know whom to call. It was as if she was frozen to immobility, unable to sort out her thoughts and hardly recognizing her own breath and heartbeat. It was as if a dark thick wall started to surround everything, and this was good, really good. This would be the best thing to do. _Just forget it_.

Then there was the other side. She herself was the evidence, the only thing that could be used by the police; maybe help to find the person who did this to her. No, this must have an end; it would be the best to clean up here.

The urgent desire to jump out of the bed and take a long, long shower to wash it all down was tempting, and maybe it would help her a little bit, but there was still, her professionalism that kept her back from doing this.

She knew that every move she´d make would probably destroy evidence. If she would look at a person – at a stranger! – who´s in her situation, she would try to persuade her to offer the police all the help that the victim could do. Let them take the traces of evidence of her body and in the room. But it was difficult when she herself was the victim, sitting there with no clear memory, but frightening thoughts. She could not sort them out, but one thing came back to her again and again. _What happened to me?_ This was the main question.

She could not remember, but a trickling and itching spot on her right shoulder told her a story… a story of being taken out by an electric shock. She could not remember what happened next, but she could see the result.

She did not know for sure what this meant to be, but it was nothing good. She had no reason to be happy that she was still alive, because she was convinced that she could also be dead now, and maybe – _god yes, I really think this_! – it would be better to be dead. She must be in a major shock state, to think like that – or she wasn´t, and was as clear as seldom before. But why did she hesitate to call then?

The movement felt like as if it was not her own arm, but she raised it and looked down at it, there were still the red lines on her skin, the longest one tracing her artery at the wrist and almost up to the elbow. There were those lines all over her body, at least the parts she could see from her current place, and she had not left the bed to go to the bathroom, to have a look into the mirror. She was not hurt along these lines; it was only red ink, from a thick felt-tip pen.

The lines were painted on her skin, but the effect was the same as if the person who did this to her had used a knife. It was the _mere possibility_ that this person had had so much power over her to draw those lines on her body – it would have been as easy for the nightly visitor to kill her in that state of unconsciousness. Why was she still alive then? Was this kind of a gruesome game? And the next thing was the drawing at the wall next to her bed. It was exactly at the side of the room someone would look at first when he stepped in through the door. It was smiling face, also drawn in red; not with blood, but with the same pen that was used on her body. It was unmistakable.

She looked down at the telephone again. Slowly she seemed to regain the ability to sort out her thoughts. Yes. She must call the police, and inform them what happened; they must collect the evidence, at all costs. But the costs were high, higher maybe than she was able to cope with, possibly higher than she could imagine now.

_No!_ There was this other voice inside her brain that started to cry louder than the others. She was a law enforcement agent, and must do everything to secure the evidence, whatever may be rolling at her with it. _Ok_, she tried to convince herself with loud thoughts. _I have to do this. I must call the police_. With this new courage she dialed nine-one… and stopped again.

Would it be better to inform the team instead of the local police? No, of course not, they were too close. But they are friends… _no_. They must not know. But if they got the news somehow they would be worried, how could she conceal this from them? They were the Red John experts of the CBI, maybe the only real RJ experts in California. And the face at the wall looked like his doing. Even if this was the work of a fare-dodger, it could be some kind of evidence. They had not heard from him a long time. But could she stand the worries and suspicions of her colleagues, the uncertainties and the doubts? Should she tell them the truth right now to avoid that? And again she cancelled the call. Everyone would know somehow and she would have to learn to accept the situation. It would be easier… no, it would not be easier.

She closed her eyes. Again and again she tried to remember, to recall anything that had happened during the time that she missed. But that was the crucial thing about being knocked out: You are done; out of order. She could feel no explicit pain, but that meant nothing at this time. She knew that she was in shock and that one part of her brain blocked in denial. In a fine, calming, smooth denial; like that all was a bad dream.

How hard could a fight with oneself be! She shook her head fiercely and dialed again nine-one-one. This time she came close to the first ringtone, then she hung up.

Shaking her head, she put down the phone again. What if this was only a joke from a person who was seeking popularity? They hadn´t heard from Red John for a while, he had disappeared. If this was the start of a new killing series? There was no reason why she should be the victim. Or was it? She was sure that this had not happened by chance. She was the target. So it was her investigation! _Yes, mine!_ She would need all of them here, and with them the whole investigation unit. Forensics, photographers… this was a new case, a thing they had to solve. And by all means, they would! _Hell, yeah!_

No matter that _she_ was the main victim now… this was an investigation as every else! And maybe this was finally a trace to someone who admired Red John´s murders; or to him himself… Her brain started to work properly while she dialed the number of the CBI almost automatically. She let it ring for a few times. Then she hung up again, what a difficult decision. What should she tell the night-shift in the CBI? Her team was not there, and if, then only Jane. She hung up a second ere some sleepy Agent could get answer the call.

There must be more to that than a mere fare-dodger. Why should she be alive, if this was a person who wanted to be like RJ? If anyone would try to copy RJ´s style of attack, she should be dead, like the poor student a few years ago, who was the victim of two crazy young movie freaks. Why should anyone who is only a "make believe" and admirer of Red John let her alive, instead of killing her and take joy out of it?

And why choose exactly her? Ok, many people knew by now that she was the Agent that had to do with the Red John murders. Anyone could try to come on her like this, for whatever cause. Why now, and never before?

And second to that, or should she better say: _How the f…_ was this person able to find her here? If this happened somewhere she was more often, at home, maybe, but _here_? In this motel room next to the Tahoe National forest, where she retreated for a free weekend? She was here the second night, it was going to get Saturday, the day that she wanted to go for a long walking trip through the woods of the Nature Preserve. No one knew where she was, the whole team split up to this free summer weekend when the Director had granted them Friday as a free day too, so she had started into their short vacation on Thursday after work, and used the first day of her stay for relaxing and a short look around in the small town Cisco, that was nearby. But she´d never counted on this; being attacked out here.

Probably she should try to call one of them, Cho perhaps, to help her to round up the others, so she chose his number and was disappointed, when only the answering machine of his phone was in the line. Of course he had switched it off; it was three in the morning! How could she ever think that he would be willing to answer a call now?

And what about Rigsby? He maybe was somewhere with his girlfriend Sarah and she had no intention to call him. Van Pelt? Of course she could call her, but she had overheard some words she had changed with the team, she wanted to go home for the weekend; she would be also very unpleased if she was disturbed. So better choose the night-shift team in the HQ? They were a complete other team and maybe far enough away from their case. She dialed again, but hung up ere the line was open. It was Senior Agent Carew's shift this weekend, and she could find someone better than him to work this case.

A few minutes passed in silence, and she used the strength that she had gathered out of the thinking-time to switch on the light and look at the paintings on her skin more closely. It was frightening, the nightly visitor set the red ink lines exactly as if he had hurt her with a knife; some longer lines like painful cuts, some short lines only as long as a knife´s blade was wide, as if they were caused by vertical, mighty stabs. She must call the police to get this crazy person. This time she really connected herself to the next police station. It was a small sheriff´s office in the near town, and the only person who had night shift here was a female officer. Her voice was tired: »Cisco Sheriff´s office, what´s your problem?«

In this minute it was clear that she could not inform the police, and this realization shut her up completely. _Red John was dead! Jane shot him!_ If there was any doubt about that, Jane was in trouble. He was called not guilty of all charges because the jury believed that he shot that serial killer. And since then RJ had kept silent, as if he really was dead, although Jane himself insisted that he shot the wrong man. If he was still out there, alive, it would backfire at her consultant. So no more words!

»Hello there, is there anyone?« the officer asked. »If this is a joke again, Denny, I´m really going to kill you, boy.« The night-shift-officer cleared her throat: »Denny, you know that those nights make me crazy. Or…«

She ended the call and sat back motionless. No one must ever know. If they´d start to work on this case, it was very likely that the truth was revealed, when they started to investigate this case. If anyone would know that Jane lied to the jury and that would bring him into jail again. And maybe this was the real thing behind all that.

Would he ever forgive her if she did not inform him about this? He would be furious if this really was some evidence for an activity of Red John, and she´d conceal it. But could she stand it, if he knew? Would he understand why she only wanted to forget this?

No, she could not call anyone. She must forget it, take a long bath and re-arrange the room to a smooth, proper state. Maybe she could get the smiling face down the wall somehow, buy some paint in the morning … it was nerve-racking.

Worse, it was tearing her into more than one direction at once, as if it slowly would rip her into pieces. One part of her longed for the chance to get this bastard down; to prevent any more attacks, to get him charged for this. The second part only wanted to forget it, take a shower, wash the marks off her body, put paint over the face on the wall, and never to ask her again what happened to her when she was unconscious. The third part wanted to talk about it; maybe that would make it better. And the fourth part she could think of right now wanted to protect Jane so that this case remained closed and no one spoke of Red John ever again. She wanted to keep him safe, but would he like that?

She was a little bit uneasy, maybe afraid. He would be disappointed when she would keep that information for herself. Of course he would want to know if RJ showed up again. Should she betray him to keep him safe? What if this was a remarkable track for them to finally get this serial killer? And could she live with the knowledge that she destroyed that evidence? Yes, she had to; somehow. Her decision was made. She would clean up here now and never speak of it again.

In the next moment she startled in shock and longed for her gun in reflex – for usual she kept the spare weapon in her bedside table, but of course she had not taken it with her on holidays. Why should she! There was someone at the door, trying to get in. Was the attacker back to complete his murder? Or was it another one, an accomplice maybe? A shudder ran over her body. What if the markings on her body were only the beginning, maybe some kind of sketch, or plan, where to set the real knife cuts and stabs? What was this game, maybe a silly or bizarre "_scary movie part x_" by some impostor?

That made a wave of fury rush through her body. You _won´t get me. Never, you… whoever you are_. And it made her somewhat easier, if this all was really some disgusting joke of a fare-dodger all her real fears were meaningless. No one was in danger, this was not Red John´s doing, he was "dead", Jane would be safe without a lie; finite! _Ha!_

She could go after those impostors with all her abilities. One problem solved; the other still to go. Whoever was going to come through this door would not get a nice welcome. For sure not! There was no time now to turn off the light, to get this intruder or group of intruders by surprise, so it was only one direction she would go. Directly at the first one who stepped inside her room; get him on the floor, and then she would be on the next one. For sure someone would hear the fight and she could order this witness to call the police. Now it was easy.

The door lock clicked, someone has opened it without the key, the knob moved, there was no sound except the fine, almost not audible screeching of the metallic parts of the door knob, and her heart that seemed to thump so loud that even the intruder must hear it.

The door opened, first slowly, as if hesitating, but then fast and the intruder came in…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The right choice?

If she knew only one thing for sure, then that: Her reactions were back to normal speed again, maybe even a little bit faster because of the high adrenaline level in her blood. It was a forceful, heavy attack that she had started, to be sure to knock the "whoever-it-is" intruder down at the first strike, so that she could be at his or her accomplices a glimpse of a second later. They must not escape; therefore she had to be fast…

But she realized somehow in the middle or only quarter-to-go movement, that this was not a target to knock down. And there it was; her time-frame to react; fast and in the part of a second. With a let-go of all her attack plans, she braked her muscles to a full stop, but this was like been hit by a heavy punch-bag. The speed she had gathered before still forced her forwards, so the only possibility to avoid a crash was to try to turn the direction somehow. That misled her completely, but the wild force of the attack was finally gone. It was a half-soft, non-hurting thud when she collided with the body in front of her.

Out of whatever cause, most likely only to prevent her from toppling over any further, she wrapped her arms around the figure and came to a sudden, secure stop. _Wow, that was close…_ only to think about the possibility that she was so near to hit him with that mighty, aggressive blow was making her sick – oh yes, she had belt him one once, cause he earned it with one of his games; but… this attack was not meant for a friend who had gone too far.

»Um, oops. Mistake.« she said. »Sorry for that…« the next moment he embraced her so firmly that she could only react with an asking: »_Yarg_?« never knowing, whatever this word or sound may mean.

Jane let go of her immediately, as if he was afraid that he had hurt her and that her strange word was some sound of pain. At first he must have been smiling, but now his body stiffened as if he froze within a second. She knew by the first look in his face that this was serious, and that caused an icy shudder run through her body. _Oh crap_.

Teresa suddenly felt so misplaced like never before, although she was at his side as ever. But she should be looking at the scene with the eyes of an Agent, not with the eyes of the victim that had red paint all over her body.

Jane was still speechless, looking at the ghastly scene with a mix of disbelief and shock. He seemed to scan every piece of the room and his gaze also flickered over her body, short, but long enough for her to recognize the questions that he was burdened with, but did not dare to ask. She never, never, never wanted to be in this situation! Why the heck was he here, it would be much better; much better; if he had never seen this, as she planned. She would prefer it to be clean and back in the HQ than here. It would have been much easier to cover-up this, if only she knew. It would have been the best, but now the chance was gone.

»Do you think it was him?« she requested, only to make him speak.

He looked at her again, but Lisbon had the impression that he was trying with all his strength to be calm. He analyzed the markings and also her painted toe- and fingernails and said: »If not, it was a really good copy. There are details in those lines, the public never knew… from what I can see the marks should be a mix out of stabs and cuts, deadly of course if done with a knife, but causing a lot of pain before he finally ended it.« He traced the red lines with his hands, but did not touch her, only formed a picture, finishing with the smooth cut through her throat.

»Why did he not kill me, if it was Red John?«

»I don´t know. I am more than happy that you are alive, but I don´t know. He cleared his throat. »Did he lay hand on you?«

»I…« she hesitated, then she explained it for him and for her in almost emotion-free words: »I was unconscious for a time and can´t remember… I am pretty sure that the person who did this took me out by an electric shock. I got those small electric burn marks here on my shoulder.« She moved the collar of her night dress a little bit to show him, and re-arranged her garment, while she talked on, as if she was reciting a stranger´s medical report: »It must have been the utmost quantity such a shocker can provide, and my body is still in an uncertain state, it tickles all over. I was not able to do any move of resistance, so… the possibility exists. I can´t remember a thing. But _if_ yes, I don´t think that he left traces.«

»Lisbon…«

Teresa cut his words: »Enough about that, and don´t try to contradict me now. You just listen.« She said with hard words. »I can´t reverse that now and I can´t delete your memory, as I can´t delete mine. But we must not; I repeat; _must not_ talk about this ever again. This is and will be our secret, for a very long time if needed. You´ll go now. I´ll clean up here, have the last two days of my free weekend and no one will ever know.«

»But…«

»No one will ever know!« she repeated. »It´s my decision. Don´t try to change it.«

»But…«

»Jane, no!« she growled. »I need you to leave now. Just turn around and go. We´ll see each other on Monday, in the HQ, as it was planned.«

»But…«

Now she started to sound like ice and flames: »One more word, and this is the end of our friendship! I am serious. There will be no investigation, because this has never happened. I am ok… or will be, as soon as I got a long shower.«

For one moment he seemed to need the maximum strength to resist the wish to come any closer, do something completely different than she wanted him to do. Lisbon could not avoid noticing that she had to hold her back too; but this was her weak inner self, the part of her soul that she always kept locked away. It was not useful in this moment. It was never useful, it was confusing.

»Go please.« she repeated, but with a much softer voice than before.

He reacted with no counterargument, but told her: »It was a short message from your phone.« and took out his cellular. Lisbon looked at the display when he had chosen the right page. There were only a few words. _I got her at the Woodlane Inn Room 23 in Cisco_. That was all, the message was sent about one and a quarter hour ago. Lisbon slowly reached out for his hand and he did not resist, when she moved his finger to the "delete" button. The message disappeared from the screen, as if it had never existed.

Then he smiled weakly and turned around to leave.

»Thank you.« Lisbon said at low voice. »It´s the best we can do. Believe me.«

He did not reply.

:-:

When the door was shut again, she took a deep breath. That he had been here was really shocking; but at the same time some kind of a brush that cleared out her mind. Now she knew what she wanted to do; without doubt. The best thing was to let nobody know.

This was an attempt to lure Jane into a trap. Why else should anyone do this? Maybe this person would try again if she or he knew that they did not react in the proper way and she could turn this thing against the unknown person. At first she deleted the sent message in her cell-phone. She knew that, if it was really Red Johns doing, she would not need to clean the keypad of the small phone – there would be no fingerprints. Of course he would have used gloves. His work was always clean, well planned and correctly done – therefore the police got no trace on him until this day.

She stepped under the shower and to her relief the color was easy to get off with soap and a little bit of scrubbing. Slowly she regained more and more sense back of her body and probably she had been right, she did not feel like as if somebody had had his turns on her. Or maybe not? Of course she would visit her doctor as soon as possible, but she needed a regular term; if she´d insist on an emergency treatment because of such a question, at least her doc would be suspicious and she never wanted any suspicious persons. She was about eighty percent sure that her visitor had only painted those lines on her body, and not touched her otherwise. Teresa shook her head. To her displease she had to admit that this did not mean very much at this time. No... she would feel it if she had been abused, even if there were no obvious signs of counteraction because if she was unconscious and had no chance to fight. But could this only be caused by an electric shock? Usually those devices stunned the victims, made them unable to move or to resist for a time, but a complete loss of all memory? And for so long? Maybe she had been drugged by someone but… _No! Not again!_ Her decision was made. There won´t be investigations. It was her profession, just the person she was, that made her think about it. But she must handle it as if this was a bad dream, only a bad dream, for Jane´s sake.

She started on her bed and rearranged it to normal state, then she turned on the spooky smiling face at the wall. Something was strange on it, she knew – ok, it was not painted with blood; that was the first and most remarkable thing. The face was slightly open at the top, the mouth smiling, as ever. But then there were the eyes… they were thin red lines with their outer edges higher than the inner ones, making them look somewhat evil. All the other pictures of Red Johns "smiley faces" on the walls flickered through her head. Usually the outer ends of the eyes were directed a little bit downwards giving the face a slightly sad, but not evil smile… was this change some sign that it was not him? _Wow stop!_ She did it again, what a curse must be laying on her! The curse of being a law enforcement officer. _Repeat:_ This was no evidence cause this has never happened, remember that.

Encouraged by the fact that the color of the felt-tip-pen had been easy to remove from her skin, she started to work on the wall with white soap foam, toilet paper and teeth-brush. Finally she must have re-dissolved the white wall paint so much that she could remove almost all traces of the red color. Only if one knew that the face was there one would notice the place, and if she could get some white paint in the morning, even if it was just the opaque white out of a water-paint set, it would look all right again.

Yes, it was the best to cover it all up, swallow it down and forget it. Of course it would be much easier to handle if Jane had not been here and seen it. But as soon as she started to think about it again, it was clear that this intruder had sent Jane a message; there was no other way! Whoever this person was and what his or her motives were, one main goal must have been to get him. And how could anyone be any surer, that Jane would do something, than in showing him the whole mess. Maybe this plan-maker thought that she´d still be out of sound mind when Jane arrived here, and that she could not give him clear orders. _Ha! This went wrong, you smart-aleck. You won´t get us with such a simple trick_.

She had to admit that she was not really sure, whether Jane went really back home or the "wherever-place" where he used to sleep nowadays; but if he still was watching the room she also wanted to teach him a lesson.

So she lay down again in her bed after a long stretch and cuddled up under the thin blanket. Whoever was watching her; Jane, the nightly intruder, some nosy neighbor or the night-owl that was hooting softly at a tree nearby… they all should see that she stood firmly behind her decision. This has never happened. That´s definite!

:-:

Surprisingly fast she had found her sleep, and no alarm clock was there to disturb her, only the song of some bird, that had chosen the tree outside to present his melodies to the world. The color at the wall had re-dried, and there was only the dim shade of some pink left. Either she had to explain that to the hotel owner, or she would get some paint and remove the last faint of color.

Whatever she was up to, now it was breakfast time and Teresa still wanted to make her hiking-trip through the woods. She was not a professional hiker, and did it less often than she maybe wished, and exactly therefore it was a new adventure and she did not want to miss it. So she dressed up in her outdoor outfit and went downstairs.

»Good morning Mrs. Pike.« she called to the older Lady who run this bed-and-breakfast inn. She had had one breakfast here, yesterday, and it had been delicious. The ageing Mrs. Pike tried to serve her guests fresh coffee or tea to the table.

»Morning, Miss Lisbon. You go on one of the trails today, I suppose?«

»Yes, I plan to do it, because I have to leave tomorrow afternoon. So I want to use this day. But first I have to get me some food and a bottle of water for the tour, then I can pack my backpack.«

»I see.« the owner of the Inn said. »So I´ll wait with cleaning your room, until you´re ready. You can use my bike to go to _Simmon´s Grocery_, it´s parked just around the corner. So you´d be faster and you´d not need your car.« Mrs. Pike poured some coffee in Lisbon´s cup.

Teresa replied: »Oh, that´s really nice of you, thank you.«

The older woman smiled: »It´s ok, of course.« She turned around and went to the next table, where she also had a little small talk with another guest.

:-:

Not an hour later Lisbon was back from her little ride to the town´s center. It was a nice trip and a cute little town. She got everything she needed in the little shop, also the cover-up-color for the wall, and some food supply for the day outdoors. The paint was drying while she packed her backpack, and when she was ready to leave the room looked used, but not as if something had happened. She could only hope that Mrs. Pike or the room maid would not notice anything; otherwise she must think for a good excuse.

The hiking paths that led into the Nature Preserve started almost at the backyard of the little Inn, only the public parking place for visitors had to be crossed ere she was at the entrance to the woods. It was a wonderful place and there were a few routes that would fit a relaxing day´s trip. She chose the one that led to one of the little lakes, if it was hot in the afternoon she maybe could swim a little bit there. At first a family with two children was right behind her, but after the next crossroad she was alone – the quietness was such a difference to the busy town life she was used to. She walked on at a good speed, inhaling the wonderful fresh air and enjoying the bird´s songs and the sun that flickered through the mighty trees.

Although now and then some darker thoughts kept trying to creep back into her mind, she always managed to store them away in a black cupboard. Maybe with a little effort this cupboard would once turn into a safe, and she would forget the code how to open it, but right now she was busy with only banning and blocking the uneasy facts. The fight kept her busy all day long, and was not forgotten when she finally arrived back in the little town, to get some dinner.

:-:

Back in her room she was relieved that the color on the wall was so good, that she herself could not tell where exactly the red face had been. While she was looking at the wall, being relieved that the evidence was destroyed; her "police-lady" professionalism started to be a pain in the neck again. It was so seducing to try to solve that riddle. It started by the simplest question: How did this felt-tip-pen attacker came in, without her hearing him? Why did the electric shocker take her out completely? Red John loved it to torture his victims when they were still conscious – at least the evidence facts said so. She must have been blacked out like dead meat, there was no memory. Her thoughts went back to drugs. Maybe knockout drops, but that would mean someone was already after her when she was in that little beer-bar yesterday evening – she had not seen anyone. Back to the room´s facts: Could it be possible that someone came in here without her noticing?

Not through the window of course, never. It was an old fabricate, and the opening mechanism squeaked out loud, when she moved it. And second to that the window had been closed from the inside last night. Also the door handle issued a little squeal if used; she had heard it clearly when Jane came in…

_Jane_. By the thought of him her insides twitched; she felt guilty that she had sent him away with so harsh words. What must he be thinking about her? _Crazy hellcat_, she called herself. How could she ever have dared to threaten him that she would quit their friendship because of that? _I must be out of mind_. Of course he was worried, good gracious heavens, what would she do, if she would find him like this? The very best would have been if he never came here; but as she had seen, the person behind this plan had lost no time to make clear that Jane knew it. And that was like the poking sting of a hornet, deep inside. This person was serious and maybe the strange attack on her was only the beginning.

This brought her to the next theory and slowly she started to wonder why she did not think about all this in the night – instead she found an easy, relaxing sleep. A short in-between-thought referred to the drug-idea again, but then she returned to the other thing. What if she was only the first one to get such a visit, what if… this was a major thing, a bigger plan, and what if she had chosen the wrong direction? _She_ was the leading Agent in the RJ case, everyone knew, and Jane was _her_ consultant, everybody all around California knew that. Of course Red John must know – ridiculous if not. It was unlikely that this someone would go after Jane; if he or – maybe she? – wanted to provoke him to do something stupid, it was not useful to attack or kill the main target. But then there was the team. And suddenly fear reached out to her, even more than the night before.

It would be pathetic and totally wrong to say that she did not care for what happened to her own body and mind because of that nightly attack; but she cared so much for her team, her friends, that she suddenly understood how Jane must feel right now.

_Oh dear, I am the stoniest and ignorant person I know!_ How could she ever send him away in a physical and psychical state like this? _This was the worst thing I ever did to him, and I can only hope that he´ll forgive me once._ It was not his fault that he had been here; it was all a big trap. They should have talked.

The next moment she shook her head. He would learn to cope with it, as she would, they will meet on Monday and as soon as he´ll see how firmly she stood behind her choice, he would understand, yes, he would. She was sure that her nightly attacker would be very surprised about the fact that she´d remained cool and did nothing, no try to catch him – or her? – Nothing at all, even send Jane, the RJ expert, away and forget it all. This would confuse the person behind this totally, and with a little bit of luck discourage him or her so much that this was it and nothing ever happens again.

_And what if not?_

God, why could her mind not be silent! Why all those questions, that´s nerve racking!

What if this ignorance would provoke a second, fiercer attack?

_Stop thinking! It´s better to forget it. You´re going to get insane_.

Or not… With a resolute turn she went to the cupboard and took out her small suitcase. In a hurry and without thinking on something else she started to pack up her things and was ready within a few minutes.

Mrs. Pike was a little bit shocked that she wanted to leave so late at night, but nevertheless the older woman noticed that Lisbon was in some troubled state of mind. The Inn-owner did not ask why she left, but Teresa reassured her that she loved the place and that she´ll come back once, and that it were only personal reasons why she had to leave now. Shortly later she sat down in the car and started the engine.

It was like taking uppers and downers. Her mind changed like a flag in the wind. In exactly this moment she wanted to skip her plan to go back to Sacramento right now, because she was convinced that she was totally right with everything that she had done. This was the best way to end this thing before it started to get really big.

_But admit it_; it was already big, it was so powerful that it kept messing up her brain as if some burglar was rummaging through a house, throwing everything aside what he did not like. She would have to clear that. It was not so easy to lock away an attack; the first time she seemed to understand the obligate psychological treatment after a shoot-out or an endangering or threatening situation. There were parts of her that she usually ignored, and they were revolting against that ignorance with all might now.

And the next second everything was different again… _Rrah_! She needed something to focus on; and not constantly asking herself if she was doing the right thing now or not, or which side was the better to follow.

»Jane, where are you?« at least she had made the choice to call him. It would be better to sort it out now between the both of them, instead of having this wall between them when they met in the HQ on Monday. If she finally decided to let be like it was, they could discuss it under four eyes and the team would not be troubled; or worse, endangered. They were all involved in this case somehow and if Jane´s judgment was questioned again… uh, she did not want to think about that.

His voice was low and indefinite: »I am in the Parkway Extended Stay Motel, in Sac. Room Twenty-nine. You coming?«

»I shouldn´t have been so rough to you. We must sort this out, so I just drop by, ok?«

»You were in shock state.« he replied. »You don´t have to come.«

»Do you mind much, if I do?«

»No.«

They disconnected the line, but Lisbon was at the motel not a long time later; she had hesitated to call until she had seen the nightly lights of Sacramento just before her car.

:-:

Finally she stopped her car next to her consultant´s old Citroen; and went up the open staircase to the balcony-like corridor that led to the rooms. When Jane opened his door, she realized at once that he hadn´t been sleeping since they met; and that he was deeply worried. He let her pass by and closed the door behind.

»Like tea?« he asked. »Got some ready.« He pointed to the tiny kitchen-thing he had there, in this small motel room. It was not more than a microwave and a water boiling machine, maybe a cupboard for spare microwave food and some plates.

»Yes, thank you.« Lisbon replied and looked around in the one-room-apartment. »I can´t believe that it´s still Saturday. Barely enough, but still…« she cleared her throat. »I should have explained to you why I wanted to forget this all. Not because I am afraid about the investigation, and the questions someone would ask me. I am not afraid about the truth, a med rep, maybe. It was also not some silly try to ban this thing from my mind by just ignoring it. That won´t work, it only makes me crazy. It´s because… Red John is dead. And he _must_ remain dead. Otherwise they´ll be after you.«

Jane turned around so fast that he nearly dropped the tea-cup from its plate; for safety he put it on the shelf, while he said: »And _this_ Lisbon, is what I feared most of all.«

Teresa was confused: »I think, I don´t understand…«

He approached her with two hurried steps and looked her in the eyes: »I don´t want you to do this for me. Not… for _me_.«

For one single time she let her other side act and speak, she reached out for him and placed her hand on his shoulder: »If not for you, then for nobody. Ok?«

Jane seemed to be stunned, which was not difficult to be if one was so very weary like him. Lisbon smiled and started to turn away to get her tea, when he suddenly made her stop with an unexpected reposition. She kind of moved into his gentle kiss and was astonished by this mind-blowing touch; it was hard to believe how fast the little shock melted away and left nothing but indescribable… even words started to melt away… who needs words…

It felt like a loss when he backed off, whispering: »Sorry for that...«

»Don´t do this.« Teresa said, when she noticed that he reached out for his suit jacket, and was heading for the door. She stepped in his way. »Stay, Patrick.«

»Stay?«

»Yes. Please stay.«


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own the song I used in this chapter! It only fits in the situation, so I wrote down a few words of it._

Chapter 3: The man in the tree 

Waking up was like… some mixed cocktail of feelings. Not all of them were entirely good, but mostly they were; and that was enough for this few seconds until she was completely awake. Whatever the consequences may be, it was not the moment to think about it. This was no minute to _think_ at all, it was a moment to benefit from. _Only a moment, please; you stubborn professionalism; give me just one more second_.

Sighing, Teresa had to admit that she was well rested and wide-awake. And in this state her mind kept playing with theories. There was no chance to get them away, so… she took a deep breath, turned round and poked Jane softly in his back, to wake him up.

He groaned instead of an answer and also turned round, still being sleepy. He slowly opened the eyes, smiled slightly and asked: »Hm?«

»We still have something to discuss.« Lisbon said. »Let´s get this over with.«

»M-hm.« he replied.

She had to smile: »And _you_ called _me_ grumpy in the mornings.« she stretched herself and was back to duty again: »I still think it is the best to ignore it. But the way I tried to convince you was wrong. We should have made some kind of… _agreement_.«

He sat up, still groaning, stretched, and rubbed his eyes. »You… mind if I bathroom, before work?« he murmured, almost unable to compose complete words.

She sighed. »No, I don´t mind. But let me in first, only for a short break. I´ll prepare some breakfast as long as you are in then.« She was the first out of the bed; grabbed her clothes and disappeared in the bathroom for a few minutes. When she came back out, Jane was putting a few different kinds of tea out of his small cupboard.

»Choose what you like.« he said, and they changed places.

The mini-kitchen he had in this motel room was barely enough equipped to make some tea; he had no breakfast-like food, not even cookies in his cupboard; there was only microwave food like macaroni and cheese and chili, and this was not really fine in the morning. Yawning she collected her shoes and left the motel room to look out for a bakery or another store that had it´s opening hours on Sunday morning. What a morning… she looked at the sun. Fortunately she found an open bakery right at the next corner. As if it was some kind of planned coincidence, she could hear a part of a song that was playing in the radio in the little shop while she was waiting, and that made her smile.

» _What a difference a day makes… only twenty four little hours, brought the sun and the flowers, where there used to be_…« the voice of Dinah Washington sang out of the radio; then the owner of the bakery got aware that there was a customer and she turned the volume level down.

»Yes ma´am?« the saleswoman asked.

»I´d like two blueberry muffins please, two plain bagels, and two of those very little packs of butter and strawberry jam.«

The saleswoman was fast; and one moment after she had bade Lisbon good bye, she turned the music louder again, but there were only the last words of the song left: »_What a difference a day made… and the difference is you…!_« She shut the door slowly.

:-:

Soon she was back and found Jane who was pouring the tea in the cups. »Morning, Lisbon.« he said, as if he only just noticed that she was here.

»I got some blueberry muffins and bagels, butter and jam. I think this would be enough.« she sat down at the tiny table, that was rarely used as a table for two to eat. »So, let´s get this over with, I also want to go home and prepare for tomorrow.« She shook her head, and laughed bemused: »I never expected that my weekend off duty would end like this.« she smiled. »I _never_ thought that I´d ever spend a night with you.«

He did not really refer to her words, but said: »I told you once: _Never say never_, Teresa.« then he looked at the tasty bakery: »Hm… finally you remembered! You never brought me blueberry muffins when I was behind bars, but you got me some now.« Jane also took place and took one of the bagels, then he asked, with his mouth full: »Now tell me why you want to cover up all this. Stop me thinking.«

»You are thinking? What are you thinking?«

»Mm… you must be so eager to get the person who did this to you. Well, _I_ am eager to get him, - I mean, now I assume that it´s a man; but…« he shook his head, cause the thoughts, that were coming up again were not useful in the moment. »If this was a woman´s work; this woman must be really crazy and also is a great danger. And to be honest, I can´t –or I refuse to – imagine that a woman is capable to do such a horror to another one.« He could not ban the thoughts, and so he told her: »We are right back at the happenings in the night. He painted those red strokes on you, and… maybe… had his will you. I can´t and I won´t accept anyone to hurt you, you know that. Why by all means did you choose to let him get away with this, only to protect me? Do you think I can live with that?«

She answered: »Hm, a lot of those thoughts I had myself, and of course I´d like to get this person charged for his or her doing! I cannot deny that. But if there are any doubts that Red John might be still alive, it is clear that you shot the wrong person, even if this Timothy Carter was not a nice man, and… they will know that you lied to the jury, that you lied to the court, which let you go because of your lies… If this case is picked up again you might end up in jail for a life sentence or even worse. I never could let this happen. And it would backfire at all of us. I care not much about me, because this was my decision; but I care for my team, and I swear, I would do everything to protect them. And you are part of the team.« She coughed for breath and also took a bite of her breakfast.

Then she started again: »Which does not mean that we two are forbidden to discuss it. I must draw back the order that we never talk about this again, because we´re doing it right now. But you must see that it would be the wrong way to involve somebody else.«

He asked: »If I hadn´t been there, you wouldn´t have told me. Right?«

»Right. And maybe that would have been much easier, on one hand… I mean; to cover it up and all. The fewer people who know about such a thing, the better it is. Because then the others don´t have to suffer because they carry round dark thoughts; about what happened to me. And don´t worry about my health, I am pretty sure that those painted red lines were the only thing that was done to me.« She growled: »Stop looking that way. You´ll have to trust me with this, Patrick. I am okay.«

He insisted: »If you would let me hypnotize you maybe we…«

»That worked once. I admit that this might be a good idea, but later. Right now we should work on a list of the facts we have and which could be dangerous for us.« She cleared her throat. »I don´t think that the Inn owner or the room maid noticed something, and when the next guests have checked in there and left their traces in the room, no one can blame me for the slightly false-colored spot on the wall. But… there comes a memory.« She looked round in the room and started to her suitcase where she found a pen.

»Look.« she said, while she was drawing a sketch on a napkin. »The smiley at the wall had those strange eyes.«

»I remember.« he answered. »Like as if it was one minute ago. The eyes are wrong, they looked evil instead of slightly sad.«

She nodded: »Could this be a hint that it was not Red John or one of his close associates, just some impostor or fare-dodger?«

»Maybe.« Jane replied. »But this scene had something ghastly, some atmosphere I only sense if it was RJ´s doing. Second to that, why should any "Fake-Red-John" choose exactly you? Hm, but why not, if you think about it.«

Teresa was his opinion: »Yes; because it has something to do with you and us and the fact that you´d be not out of jail if Red John was still alive. There´s someone who wants you to be behind bars again, I am sure, maybe a…« her face enlightened. »What if some of our opponents tries to discredit you, so that you really get the life sentence? Maybe someone who´s still angry on you? And there are a lot of possibilities, to be honest.«

»Good point.« Jane said. »But how would this person react when he or she realizes that you block the nightly attack from being investigated?« He smiled. »I think that must be very confusing for the mercenary and the client.«

She agreed: »Well, yes, that also was a point I was thinking of. A confused attacker is more likely to make a mistake than an attacker who is pretty sure in all he does. I know that this might be a dangerous game, but what if we´d look out for what comes next? If this was an attempt to get you to do something stupid, then this cannot be the only one, if you do nothing. We wait, and try to turn this whole thing to a backfire.«

Jane said: »I am sure that there is much more to think of to those happenings than we can imagine now. Maybe it is really better to wait for the next step – if there is one. But I assume that this was not the end. There will be a next try.«

»I think so too.« Lisbon added.

They fell silent for a while, but she started to speak again: »But Patrick, we… still have some other thing to talk about. We both know that we shouldn't have done that. I really liked it, yes, but it ran away with us.«

»I …« he started, but his words were interrupted by the ringing tone of a telephone.

It was Lisbon´s, so she answered: »I´m here, Mr. Wainwright, what is it?« It was unusual that the boss of the department called her on a Sunday morning. Something must have happened. Her primary concern was: »Something wrong with one of my team?«

»No, Agent Lisbon, your team is all right, but they might not be very happy. You´ll have to round them up, although the director gave you the whole weekend off, inclusive today, of course. But we´ve got a murder reported, that needs us to take over.«

Lisbon sighed: »Can you tell me any details?«

»Not on the phone, no, this has a top secret rating. I have been called to the office by Bertram himself, and had a short look at the very first report. Then we decided that you´re the best team to handle this. If this only happened three hours earlier, I could have engaged Carew and his team, but another murder was reported during the night-shift from Sat to Sun, so... he took over this one.« He cleared his throat. »The director and I know that your weekend is ruined, but he´ll remember that and keep you in mind for a compensation.«

»Fine, then I´ll get my team together. I happen to be at Sacramento, I could start at once, to have a look at the corpse, to let the coroner do his work.«

Wainwright seemed to be relieved: »Oh, that is good news! The body was found just outside the Town of Shasta Lake, in the woods, by a quail hunter – who unluckily is one of the best friends of one major senator – just this morning. Meet Sheriff Summit at the local sheriff´s office, maybe you can order your people to get right there if they´re ready.«

»Ok, Boss. I´m on my way.« she shut the phone and turned to Jane: »So… I´ll have to skip going home first. May I use your bathroom to get ready?«

»It´s all yours.« Jane answered, and went to his small wardrobe. There was not much inside, but enough to be equipped if needed. »Just close the door when you´re ready. I take the keycard with me.« he said and started to pack up a small travelling bag. Shasta Lake was too far away to go back to Sacramento before the morning.

»See you in a few hours.« he said and smiled at her in an unforgettable way. It was true; they needed no words to communicate with each other.

»See you there.« she replied, knowing that it would be better if they´d be driving alone, although it was a good piece of way.

Fast she called the others – as expected, none of them was very happy to be called in for duty; Van Pelt was still with her family and she was not sure if she would make it in time. She promised to try to rebook her flight directly to some town near Shasta Lake, but Lisbon refused that and said, that Grace should go back to Sacramento as planned. Maybe they were ready in Shasta within one day and could carry on the further investigations in the Headquarter. If not, she could join them on Monday morning. Rigsby was next to Sacramento and seemed to be ready to start off at any moment; Cho was outside town and would need about two hours longer than the others to arrive there.

About half an hour later she was also ready and re-packed her little suitcase, and left the little motel room. As she had expected Jane´s car was not there anymore, but for sure she´ll meet him at the Sheriff's office in Shasta Lake.

:-:

»Wow, I am really happy to see you here.« the Sheriff said, as soon as Lisbon had stepped into the office. She was a woman about Lisbon´s age, maybe three or four years older. She had dark-blonde hair and green eyes, and right now there was an anxious flickering in them. »We… seldom have such things here, Agent Lisbon. And I must say my officers were really troubled when they called in their first report. I still can´t believe it, although I´ve seen it myself, but… sorry… I should have welcomed you first.«

Teresa asked: »Has anyone else of my team arrived yet?«

»Yes, one Agent Rigsby, half an hour ago, I was informed… but I was not back at this time.« She turned to a younger officer: »O´Malley, what did Agent Rigsby say?«

The younger officer replied: »Well, he said he´ll use the time to arrange some motel rooms for the night, because he thought that it´s not much likely that they´ll be able to leave today. But he´ll be back soon.«

Lisbon nodded. »Anyone else? Like an Agent Kimball Cho or a Patrick Jane?«

»Not yet, but If you like we´ll wait for them.« the Sheriff said. »In the meantime I can show you what we´ve already got and you can meet Mr. Bailey, who found the body.«

The CBI Agent nodded: »Okay, maybe it would help to be a little bit informed.«

»Or prepared.« Officer O´Malley said. »I got sick when I heard.« he turned away again.

Sheriff Summit started to explain: »We sent Mr. Bailey home after we got his first statement, to keep him here would be too much stress after all. He was out for a quail hunt with his dachshund, when he found the body – he found it because he followed a sheer unbearable stench. It was a man, at least one could tell that by the figure of the body, who had been hanged on a tree, only about a hands breath above the ground. Bailey immediately called the police and did not go any closer, but for what he could see from there…« She was interrupted by Rigsby, who came back to the office, accompanied by Jane, whom he must have met right outside; they were still at the beginning of their conversation.

Lisbon greeted them and said: »Sheriff Summit, may I introduce Agent Wayne Rigsby and Patrick Jane, our consultant?« They all shook hands, and waited for the next words; the Sheriff being visible relieved that the CBI had taken over. Teresa continued: »Cho will be late, he´ll follow us. And Van Pelt may be not coming, only if needed; when we have to stay longer than till tomorrow. We can go and look at the crime scene now; so that the coroner finally can take the body with him.«

The Sheriff drove them out to the next parking possibility with the car. Two other police vehicles were waiting there, also the coroner´s wagon, but the team was still there, waiting next to the open back door, where one could see the plastic coffin.

Sheriff Summit informed them: »It might not be long now, guys. I´ll call you immediately when the CBI is ready there.«

»Yup, we´ll still be here.« one of the coroner´s team said.

They went on, had to walk about one and a half mile following a small trail deep into the woods. »From what we could interpret…« Sheriff Summit explained, »The dead person was not walking this way, he must have been dragged along – his clothes are ripped and torn, and I think this was not only done by the animals that were at him.«

The nearer they came the more they had the impression that the sight won´t be very nice, and unfortunately they were not disappointed. The hot summer air had done much to the body that must be hanging here for at least four or five days. Fly maggots were everywhere and not only in wounds and body holes of the victim; also at the earth below, where the blood and other substances had met the earth. One of the legs seemed to be half-eaten by some wild animal; the clothes he was wearing were dirty and stained with blood and body liquor, and maybe some bird of prey had been feeding on his shoulders.

Sheriff Summit coughed because of the sheer unbearable stench and said: »Looks like as if he was tortured before hanging him. And they did not break his neck, he must have suffocated slowly, dangling only few inches above ground.«

They approached and could see that his mouth was humiliated, one corner was still closed by the tight hold of a metallic staple, the other side had ripped open and the swollen tongue had slipped out there. Rigsby turned round, he had a strong stomach, but this was really enough. Jane also backed off at the first sight, and tried to cover mouth and nose with his hands. Everyone could understand them – If Lisbon had eaten since the breakfast, she would also be throwing up behind some bush. It was probably the ugliest and most disgusting corpse they ever found.

»At least you can´t blame the animals that took some pieces of him.« Jane said through clenched teeth. He coughed. »They don´t know the evil that happened here.«

Lisbon looked back at him, knowing that he was right. The wounds the wild animals had left on the body looked disgusting, also the fly maggots that were crawling all round; but they did not kill nor torture him, and they did not leave him here to the vultures… She avoided it to take a too deep breath and said: »Ok, your local forensics can start their work, take all the photos we need. You can take him down and transfer him to the morgue… I think we need to stay here until the examination of the body is ready.« She cleared her throat. »Anything remarkable, Jane?«

»Besides the fact that he was tortured, and that death was a relief for him? Uh… really.« he made one round around the hanged man. »The wounds that were bleeding were of course done when he was still alive. There are burn marks at his hands and lower-arms, that staples that must have shut his whole mouth before he cried so much that he ripped them out – they could be a sign that this man said something he´d better not said. Maybe that was the motive. His ears seem to be violated, so I think he heard some secrets and passed them on… but I never saw such an unbelievable amount of wrath before.« Now he retreated. »Whoever did this to him, must be a person who knows the body parts where you can hurt a man most, without taking the risk to kill him too early.«

Sheriff Summit had listened to his explanation with increasing repel, now she turned away with a white face and was close to join Rigsby, who got a water bottle from one of the other officers, and tried to calm down. »Poor boys.« she said. »They have to take him down now.« She called for the coroner and ordered her people then to start with the photos.

Lisbon looked round: »There are not much traces on the ground. The earth is hard and dry, so we won´t find footprints. And if this was really done by experts, as Jane said, they cleaned up for sure.« She shook her head. »I hope we find something on him… Has he been identified in the meantime?«

»No, we did not touch him of course, but ran a photo through our files. He´s not a local, must be a stranger.«

Patrick added: »But not from far. They used much time on torturing him, but not much time to drag him away, I think; they must be too eager to torture him instead of taking him somewhere else for hours before they could start. He wears a jogging suit, so maybe he was taken on his daily jogging trip. Judging from his well cared finger-nails and hands, and the accurate hair and eyebrow cut, also the quality of that expensive jogging suit and shoes, he was not a poor man. I bet on a man who was used to wear a suit when he went to work, and would prefer no one to see him in this free-time-garment. So he maybe used a jogging track that was outside his hometown, where he most likely won´t meet anyone of his business partners. He absolutely not counted on being kidnapped.«

»You see all this only by the look at him?« The Sheriff was impressed.

Lisbon explained, smiling: »That´s what we pay him for.« She rounded up her people: »Ok, let´s go back to the Sheriff´s office, I want to talk to this quail hunter who found him.«

When they arrived at the town center, they were surprised; Cho was waiting for them. He was introduced to the Sheriff and her officers. He took the key of the motel room and listened to the first details that were told him by the others.

»Oh, I think I am happy that I weren´t there.« he said. »I think it´s gonna be disgusting enough to read the coroner´s report.«

»You might be right with that.« Rigsby said. »I still feel sick although we´re miles away. I am really interested to know who it is – what a man deserves such a treatment?«

Lisbon added: »And what kind of man can think about the way of torture and the slow murder by suffocation?« She shivered. »Brr, this, I must admit, is a little bit rough for me. I wish Carew had taken over this one.«

They all were the same opinion. Slowly it was getting late, but Lisbon wanted to have the interview with the quail hunter Mr. Bailey on this day, so Sheriff Summit accompanied them to the house of the man. He was still in shock although hours had passed, and to his own embarrassment he had poured him a few drinks and was quite drunk now. He excused him a lot of times, but the law enforcement officers had to admit that he had a good cause for the half-empty whiskey bottle.

Mr. Bailey tried to pull himself together as much as he could and listened to Lisbon´s questions, then he answered: »Yes. I was hunting for quails in the early morning hours, started off when it began to get gray and planned to be home after sunrise. The quails like the morning hours, you know? I never go the same route, I have got seven rounds for seven days of a week, this is my Sunday round. Makes the birds suspicious if you show up in only one place. Well, then I noticed that infernal stench, and got my dog back on leash – no one knows for what cause wild animals die in this woods, and I don´t want my dog to get sick. I went for a look, cause you have to report the authorities if you find a larger dead wild animal; the pest control must look at the carrion, to be sure that there are no wild disease in the area. And then I saw this man hanging…« he shrugged. »I never went closer than ten steps, but the sight of it was … I think I can never forget that. I called the police immediately. It must have been around five, half past five in the morning.«

»Yes, half past five, roundabout.« Sheriff Summit added. »First some colleagues went out to look, after they´d seen that it was serious they called me in.«

Jane asked: »Mr. Bailey, have you seen anything strange at the crime scene? Something that did not fit your memory of that place?«

»Ehm, I must say, no. I go there every Sunday during the quail hunting season, there´s only woods and animals. Once two years ago there were some campers one Sunday, but not at the place I found the corpse. There was nothing. Sorry, Mister Jane.«

»Hm.« Patrick grunted.

Mr. Bailey asked: »Will there be more questionings? I mean, yes, my friend, Senator Fringe, told me that the CBI would have more questions, so I see that. But… was that my statement now? I… would like to try to forget that. Although I think I never will.«

Lisbon said: »No, there won´t be any more questionings, but you can call every time if you remember something you forgot to tell us. Your words are all recorded and I let one of my assistants write it down and print it. We´ll only drop by once again to let you sign your statement. We cannot inform you about details as long as the investigation is not closed, but you will be able to follow the police reports on the media.«

»Thank you.« Mr. Bailey smiled. »At this point I really hope that I hear nothing.«

They bade him good-night and returned to the Sheriff´s office.

:-:

Meanwhile the officers had cleared two desks to give the CBI Agents some working space there. The first digital photos were available and the small amount of possible evidence that was found at the crime scene was in a box on one of the tables. Although all those little things had no more contact to the dead body, they still had some indistinct stench on them that could make one sick. And they said nothing about the victim.

Only Jane noticed something: »Here are all the things a man might carry with him if he goes on a jogging-round: A little watch-like training computer, a small mp3-player, both of them state-of-the-art, not cheap. A jogging suit, as I said earlier, also an expensive model, and those shoes, and two keys for a door, his home maybe. No car key, wherever he must have been kidnapped, it was so close to his home that he did not use his car to drive.«

Cho asked: »But maybe they stole the car-key to prevent the man from being identified? If you got the car, you got the license plate, and the name.«

»And what about the _house_ key in his pocket? Why did they let this there, you also get a name immediately if they fit and open the house door of a missing person.«

Cho smiled: »Right… sorry for that, of course you get the name if you have the house.«

Lisbon had started to give orders behind their backs, so they stopped talking and listened to her. »…ok, I want two of you to search the missing people's reports for men that might fit our victim. As soon as the coroner calls and can tell us something about the approximate dying time we can sort it out. Maybe we get some re-construction of a few facial distinguishing marks that we can run with the driver's license. It is possible that we get something there. Rigsby, please do me the favor and write down the report of Mr. Bailey. Jane, Cho, Sheriff Summit, I, and you, Officer O´Malley, we will start off tomorrow morning to the quarter of Shasta Lake that lies next to the exit to the woods. We´ll ask round, maybe someone noticed a car or some strangers; maybe we´ll have the look and someone had seen something and remembers it. Then we have to go back to the crime scene, I fear.«

»But the chance is not very good.« Sheriff Summit had to admit. »The place where they hanged the man is way in the woods… but we can try. You can only get to that hidden parking place, if you pass by some houses; including the house of the keeper of the parking lot; there is no other street. And maybe we have the luck and the kidnappers had been there once before, maybe to make out the perfect place for their doing. We can only try.«

Lisbon nodded: »Tomorrow the last member of my team, Agent Van Pelt, will also arrive here and then we have a full investigation team. We´ll get this one solved.«

For today, they were done; the coroner´s report would need more time. Only Rigsby wanted to stay a little bit longer to get the typing of the report ready. Later on they met for dinner at a small restaurant next to the motel, but no one was really hungry.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Who is the victim?

_Wednesday, seven p.m. _

They had spent three full days now in Shasta Lake. Since midday on Monday also Van Pelt was here, but although they were a full investigation team now, there seemed to be no real revelations on this case. It was dead hot, maybe a few of the hottest days in this summer; but they had no chance or time to pay any respect to the heat. They had spent Monday and Tuesday outdoors, searching the grounds around the place where the man was finally hanged for any evidence. Also some forensics specialists had been there with them, but they had not found out much more than they already guessed at their first visit. The victim had been dragged along the small path that led to this tree; they found fabric pieces that matched the jogging suit of the man at some thorny bushes that were growing alongside the path, and on one of the bushes there were also blood traces. The man was tortured and murdered at this place, almost all his blood was spilled here. When he had been hanged some carnivore birds had taken pieces out of the victim´s upper body and arms, and the flesh of one lower leg was missing because some larger carnivore, the bite marks fitted a fox or a small coyote, took it. There were flies, ants and some bugs – all together they proved that the body must have been hanging there for at least four days.

So the torture and the murder themselves, as well as the fate of the corpse, had a complete history, at least from the parking lot until the pathologist started his examination.

But that did not mean much. One could have the complete report of the coroner, but if the murderers left no trace, like here, it was a dead end. They could only wait for the computer reconstruction of the face of the victim; the fingertips were all cut and burnt, so they could get not a single fingerprint. Respecting the state in which the body had been in when they found it… it was a difficult job to reconstruct a life like picture on the computer and everybody understood that the technicians needed more time for that.

Three hours ago the report of the pathologist had been completed and sent to them, for the files. The CBI team as well as the officers in the local Sheriff´s department had forced themselves to read it through once, and that was really enough. It was like reading the little book of horrors; one of the officers in the room did not bear it and went to the men´s room with an almost white face. Whoever had done this to that poor man, must be so far out there, that no one here could believe it. Sometimes it was hard to understand what humans could do to other human beings.

»Okay.« Sheriff Summit said, with a little bit of resignation in her voice. »It´s been a long day, really, and after that shocking report I think we might need an evening outside this office. So… the night shift will start their work in half an hour, the rest of you officers can go home if you…« She was interrupted by a phone call. »Yes, Summit here?« she answered, listened to the caller, and explained to the others: »Sorry guys… the reconstruction of the face is ready. They´ll send it over. They only need a secure e-mail address.«

»I´ll tell them mine.« Van Pelt said. »They can send it to my computer right away.« She took the phone for a minute and only a short time later she had the mail on her laptop. »Yes, I got it here.« she told the technicians. »Thank you for the work.« She hang up.

They all looked at the face of the man. It was computer made and had of course the touch of artificiality, but it was a start. The man had brown hair and grayish eyes, and no really distinctive features; was between thirty-five and forty-five years old, and neither very tall nor too small. It was a type of man that could be found everywhere.

Lisbon said: »Start the run through immediately. Maybe we get some results. Although I fear that the list will be very long. Even if we include the fact that he might have been living not far away, as Jane told us.« She sighed. »It will be a long night, I think.«

»I fear so.« Van Pelt said. »I´ll send the picture through all the civilian registration offices, also I will include the missing peoples reports that we have selected before, and the list of the people who had criminal records.«

Lisbon turned to Sheriff Summit: »But if you want, you can send your day-shift-people home, and get some rest. While the search for the man is on the run, we´ll try again to compare the statements of the neighborhood to the facts we found at the parking lot.«

They had been asking round in the street next to the small parking lot right on Monday morning, but as Sheriff Summit had predicted, the round through the neighborhood had not been very successful. There were only ten houses that looked out directly on the street that let out to the small parking place, from where the path to the crime scene parted off; and no one could tell who might have been at the parking place itself _five_ days ago. A much too long time had passed since the murder. Only two persons, an older woman who was a passionate gardener and a young scout-boy who had been bird watching in the area had seen something that could possibly be a hint: A dark blue van-car with blackened rear windows. Rigsby and Cho still searched for the car, but there were thousands of that kind in the middle-northern California. None of the witnesses remembered the car type, not even to think of the license plate. It could have been the murderer´s van as well as the van of a happy family that was here to go hiking or camping for the weekend. So this had been a dead end, but if – maybe if, the murdered person himself owned a car like this, this might be a little step forward. When the kidnappers used the car of the victim, there were maybe some usable traces inside, but at first they had to find it!

And it was getting late. Dusk and dinner time passed; they had only some take away food from the next corner´s Pizzeria. It was late night now, and only one tired officer who had night shift was still there besides the CBI team.

»Eureka!« Grace suddenly exclaimed, but her voice was not very happy. Everyone in the Sheriff´s office looked at her. »The run through got me results.«

Lisbon, who had been working with Cho and Rigsby on an aerial photo of the area, went over to her teammates place: »Is it much?«

»As much as I feared.« Van Pelt answered. »We have six hundred and twenty two matches with the drivers licenses of northern and middle California; five hundred and seventy nine matches to the passport´s pictures of citizens of this area, one hundred and three persons who could fit according to the list of already police-known people; and still fifty-nine persons who are on the missing peoples list of California, that look like him.«

Lisbon sat down next to her. »Oh dear.« She took a deep breath. »That means a lot of sorting out per hand – we start with the missing peoples reports as a base and compare them to all the other files. It´s the shortest list, maybe we get something.«

Jane sighed: »That means work until the morning, does it?«

»Seems so.« Lisbon replied, but fell silent within a second.

It was this very moment when she noticed how eager she was to put all her concentration to the current case. It was a good chance to put back her own mishap for a while, when she had other things to think on. Strange, how fast her mind nevertheless was back to that night. It was as if she only slowly really began to realize how incredibly delivered she had been to her attacker. This person could have done anything to her; the intruder had got it in his or her will if she´d live or die, whether she was hurt or unscathed… It was a situation that was not easy to forget.

And Jane knew; the way he looked back at her right now was heartbreaking. Maybe it would be better to admit that she really suffered from this situation, but… being strong was her way! She would not allow this attack to bring her down.

»Folks.« she said, to distract her. »Listen. We´re all overtired. Let´s get to the motel and try to sleep a few hours. We´ll work tomorrow on these lists; with the help of Sheriff Summit and the day shift officers. We meet again at half past eight, here.«

Grace proposed: »I let the computer do an overnight-run through the files again – and include the missing people´s reports of western Nevada and southern Oregon. I know that we´ll get even more results then, but probably there´s one better match.«

»Yes, do this.« Lisbon agreed. A few minutes later they left the Sheriff´s office.

:-:

Later, when Teresa was up to turn off light in her motel room and get some sleep before the long day that was waiting in the morning, there was a soft knock on the door. She knew at once that it must be Jane, and went to open the lock, but then she decided for another way, she let the door closed; why exactly, she did not know – or pretended not to know. _No, on the contrary. She was well aware of it_. She could not bear the sorrows he carried round, and which were still visible with a look in his eyes – although he tried hard to keep their trace out of his voice when he was talking to her.

»Yes?« she asked through the shut door, while leaning her shoulder against the thin wooden barrier.

Jane answered: »I want you to see your doctor as soon as we´re back home. If you don´t want to talk to me, maybe you´ll talk to someone else.« He put his hand on the door from the outside. If it would be possible to cut the door in half and look at the scene from the side, it would be charming. If it was not for the door as a barrier, his hand would rest on her shoulder; a gentle, but encouraging touch.

»That´s not your business, Patrick. You are not at my side to be concerned about my health. You´re my consultant in crime investigations. We discussed that once, and that had been enough. But I will do, I told you. And don´t let you be carried away by the thoughts about that night. We need to be professional to protect the team. You agreed to that.«

He took a deep breath: »Yes. But it is difficult.«

»I know.« Lisbon said. »Good night.«

»Night.«

:-:

Finally they had it; or someone like that. It was past noon again, but together they had worked out the list until only two names had remained.

Rigsby wrote those two names on the big flip-chart: »It´s probably Mister Andrew Greene of Two-Seven-Nine-Six Harlan Drive, Redding; or Mister Tom Baker, Seven-Four-Three-One Mill Street, in Anderson. We need to check where the key fits and we got it.«

»Fine!« Lisbon said. »Let´s go, thank god Van Pelt brought the big van.«

First they went to the address in Redding, because it was a little bit nearer, and as soon as they stood in front of the entrance door, they knew that they were right here. The key fit the lock and Cho opened the door. In the house there was the smell of food that was beginning to rot, but nothing else seemed to be changed by intruders. The house owner only left his home for his jogging round, and was up to come back soon. There was food prepared on the table and the coffee-machine had caused a short-circuit because it was on and no one had turned it off again. There was old coffee in the cup; everything seemed to be just waiting for the man to return, but he never did. Upstairs the light in the bathroom was still on, and a suit for the day was prepared next to the big mirror on the wardrobe. Also shoes were standing there, next to a business-bag with laptop inside.

»That makes me sad, the whole house waits for him to return, but he never will.« Jane said. »This man never expected to be taken by someone.«

»Hm.« Cho said, who had opened the wardrobe. »But maybe you´re wrong, Jane.« he pointed to a ready-to-go packed bag, that was standing at the floor of the wardrobe. If needed you´d only have to take it and off you go.

Lisbon ordered: »Open the bag and look what´s inside. Still possible that he was up to go on holidays and had already prepared all, such as he had prepared his breakfast and his suit before he went for his morning-sports. All the others, search for photos, personal documents, some letters or bills. We must get to know our victim, maybe we´ll find his murderers that way. The boss of his working place reported him missing. Look if there are really no other persons that could possibly miss him, like relatives or friends. If there are some persons connected to him that did not make a report this could be suspicious.«

Rigsby went downstairs, saying: »I start with the cellar.«

»Then I´ll search the roof floor.« Van Pelt said.

Jane, Lisbon and Cho were soon surprised by the return of the two others.

Rigsby explained: »Nothing in the cellar, only the heat generator and the pipes, also the fuses. Some empty cardboard boxes, but they are all unmarked.«

»The same upstairs. The roof room is small and you can hardly stand upright, but it is dry and would be the perfect place for the storage of older personal belongings or spare clothing, but it is as empty as if the house was never used.«

Jane supposed: »Maybe he did not live here for a long time. The cardboard boxes could be the remains from a move. I´ve noticed that he must have been living alone – the other rooms here all belong to him too, he has a computer- and library room where one of the children´s rooms could be, the other room up here is his sports-room with some training-apparatus, and there are no signs of a female touch in this house. Probably he had someone, but this person was not living here.«

»We´ll find out.« Lisbon reassured the team.

Slowly a picture of the person that was murdered was beginning to form. He worked at a firm for car-parts, not in a very high position, but apparently he tried to look as much business-like as possible. He was not living in Redding for a long time, only two years now, and he had several relationships but nothing really serious. When Cho went to talk with his boss, it came out that Mr. Andrew Greene had been a good worker, thrice been employee of the month, and never complained about anything; if he´d not been murdered he would have had the best chances for a promotion. All his current co-workers were deeply hit that he was dead, and it was his boss who had reported him missing; because he never before missed a working day without an excuse. There was nothing suspicious in the life of Andrew Greene, nothing that would have justified a murder like this.

When they sat together at the evening round, Lisbon decided: »We´re going back to Sacramento tomorrow, we can´t do nothing more here. We´ve heard all witnesses, looked at all evidence and still this Mr. Greene seems to be a victim of unidentified persons. Possibly we´ll find some more in the files of the CBI, maybe we can try to contact the FBI too. So we´ll pack up the things now, so that we can start off tomorrow morning.«

They all were ok with that; it was strange feeling to be in a dead end, especially when they had such a disgusting case. Of course they would have preferred to get the murderers in charge for their doing. But it was as if… Mr. Andrew Greene had never existed more than two years ago.

At this moment Rigsby said: »Boss, it is a good idea to search the CBI internal files. I think it is very strange if someone has no past, I mean… there were all the documents… birth register, high-school and college diploma, of course his driver´s license, passport… but they all seem to be new – the paper and the computer print looks new.« He gazed at Jane who was also looking through the files of Andrew Greene now. »What do you think?«

»Oh, um, I what? Ah, yes, the personal documents…« he seemed to be not very concentrated, and then he said only something that they all already knew: »Yes, the passport is new, also the driver´s license. New photos and both issued two years ago. But that may mean nothing, maybe he had to make them new because they were expired.«

It was Van Pelt who asked: »Jane, are you sure that you are all-right? You seem to be carried away… I mean, although this case is really interesting, you´re not really with us; not even half the time. We watched this almost the whole week now… but…«

Patrick smiled: »Sorry about that. Possibly the fate of that poor guy repels me too much to think straight ahead.«

Cho said: »You never think straight ahead.«

»This time I tried to do. But it seems to be the wrong direction. Straight ahead there is that dead end; we know no one that might have had a grudge on Mr. Greene; and looking straight back his existence breaks down two years ago.«

Rigsby smiled and said: »That sounds much more like the Patrick Jane we know.«

Only Lisbon remained silent. She knew what he was thinking about and all the focus she had tried to put on this current case popped away like a soap-bubble. It had been nice to concentrate on as long as it was there but now she also thought back to that night again.

Finally Jane broke the silence: »If you ask me, I´d say that "Mr. Andrew Greene" exists only since two years. Respecting the fact that this man was almost forty years old; that's a long time for someone to "not exist". What if this is a new identity, chosen by him to conceal a past that he´d like to forget, or given to him by someone to protect him.«

»Witness protection program.« Rigsby and Cho said at once.

Jane nodded: »Therefore we really need to go back to the HQ where we have the full access to the files. Maybe someone recognizes him if we show the photo to our colleagues.«

»That´s brilliant.« Lisbon credited to him. »And it´s the only new track we have.«

While the Senior Agent explained their new theory to Sheriff Summit, the others started to pack the things. Grace put them in the police safe, then they left the Shasta Lake Sheriff´s office for the night.

:-:

It was almost midday on Friday, when they all arrived in Sacramento; there had been an accident on the interstate and only Jane and Rigsby, who were the fastest drivers, had passed that spot ere a long vehicle truck toppled over and the lanes were closed for almost one hour until Cho, Van Pelt and Lisbon could finally pass by.

Wainwright was waiting for a report, so Lisbon joined him. In the meantime the others worked on the files and also looked at the old, expired driver´s license register; but that would be a really long work because they did not know where they could search for the man who now was Mr. Greene. They had to look at all the US records, while the computer was working on it´s own, they retreated to the cellar to look through the old files of the witness protection program.

»I hope that this is not a FBI case.« Cho said. »Then we won´t get far with our files.«

Rigsby sighed: »Oh, don´t worry. Wainwright has granted Lisbon overtime. We can work all the weekend, if we need to.«

»Wow.« Van Pelt groaned. »So far about that, I think.«

_Monday morning _

It would have really been a long work, if not Agent Mallory, an Agent who was working in the team of Agent Price, would have passed by Rigsby´s desk when she arrived at work in the morning. She stopped and asked: »What do you do with a photo of one of our clients?«

»Eh, what?« Wayne, who was a little bit overtired and had not left the office since Saturday morning, looked up to her. He was puzzled and felt dizzy. Before his little nap he had been working at the computer for a long time and blinked to get his eyes clear. »Oh, this man… He´s our case now. You know him?«

»Yes, although the photo is not really life like. But yes, this is… I don´t recall his name now. But I know him. He´s in Agent Price´s witness protection program. I´ll round him up, as soon as he´s here. He´ll take a look at the photo. I am sure he knows his name.«

Rigsby smiled: »Thank you very much!«

Grace had spent this night here with him, therefore she was already in the house, as well as Jane was, who had never left since Friday, he was sleeping in his roof chamber. So he only had to call Lisbon and Cho, but they both were already on the way to the bureau.

Thirty minutes later the whole team was there, also Wainwright, and they were waiting for Price. The other team leader arrived, accompanied by his own people, and confirmed: »This is one of our former clients; from almost three years ago. We had him under cover for nine months, and then we established him a new identity. His name is Andrew Greene now, right? What happened to him?«

»Right, we found him as a Mister Andrew Greene, in Redding. I mean, near Shasta Lake. In the woods.« Lisbon started to explain. »He´s dead, murdered, to be exact. Whoever did this, tortured him several hours ere they let hanged him to suffocate.«

Agent Price was shocked: »Wow, no… I told him to move to the east coast; I never knew that he´d stay here in California. You know already how did this to him?«

»No.« Jane replied. »But it would help a lot if you´d tell us his old name.«

»Of course, and if you need it I would give you all the information I have upon him. His name was Howard Hanson, he was that person who had been the night shift security employee who had tried to spy on my files. That time you also helped me out, didn´t you?«

For a few seconds there was a blank silence between them all.

Then Patrick asked: »That protection program you ran for Mister Peter Thompson, who witnessed against Lazar Levine and his associates? I think Hanson made a statement on that, did he? I mean, on the part that he was hired for.«

»Yes he did, and that got Levine some more years. But how the heck comes it that Hanson ends up murdered now? May I have a look in the case file, please?«

Lisbon said: »Of course, but you might not be very happy. It´s gruesome.« She pointed to the file that was on the table. It was still small, but they were sure that it soon would be much fatter. Price stretched his hands out for the papers; never took them, but startled.

»Now I know!« with this three words Jane jumped to his feet and started rummaging in the file until he found the report of the pathologist. »See here, he´s been punished cause he´s a rat, a traitor! He heard something he must not hear, and passed it on! Therefore the extremely violent humiliation of his ears and mouth!«

Price asked: »Ears and mouth?« Then Jane handed him the file so he could read it himself. Price´s face went white; he needed some time to find the ability to speak again. »And the victim was still alive when they did this? The thing with the screwdriver and the… staples?« he coughed. »Oh crap, they´re really crazy.«

»Crap indeed.« Wainwright said, who was looking at the report from one side. »That surely means that someone who knew that he was witness in a big process is behind this attack. They punished him for talking. And that leads us to this case where he was in court.«

»It does.« Price admitted. »Do you agree, Agent Lisbon, if we work on this together?«

Teresa nodded: »Everybody who´s able to help us is welcome.«

Price said: »At first, I would like to be sure that the other witnesses in this case are safe. If this goes out from someone close to Levine, they will be after the other witnesses.«

»That's fine for us. And we try to work out this specific murder, which hopefully will lead us to the people who did it – and finally to their client, wherever he may be.«


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The second one

_Thursday 9:15 a.m. _

When the members of the two teams that worked on this case arrived in the CBI this morning, the situation had only become more difficult than it had been the last days. The murder of Howard Hanson had turned into a really big case. There were not only two CBI teams, but also the Sheriff´s office of Shasta Lake and the Police Department of Redding involved, nowadays even the authorities that supported the CBI Witness Protection Program to build a new identity. Every step that Mr. Hanson alias Andrew Greene had done, had to be recovered; they must try to get out when and where his real identity was revealed and how the killers could find him. If the witness protection unit of the CBI was guilty in any way, maybe with having a leak or some traitor it would end in a catastrophe.

Maybe the bureau of Agent Price was spied again or some contact man got bribed – worse, if it was an Agent or someone from the police who´d been working on the new identity. But perhaps the leak was in the other official buildings or networks, where they issued the new passport, the driver´s license, and the other documents. If anyone there could be bribed to give away sensible information, that would have a tremendous impact. Every one of these possibilities kept haunting Director Bertram, and therefore he continuously made pressure from the back to clear this up.

Luckily enough there were two teams working on that case, but they were barely enough people nevertheless to investigate every possibility. And it was like chewing and re-re-chewing a piece of gum that had already lost all its flavor – and you are forbidden to spit it out. Again and again they asked the same questions and got unsatisfying answers.

Cho and Rigsby went back to Shasta Lake on Wednesday to talk to the witnesses again; on the return way today they were going to visit the working place of Mr. Andrew Greene and his house again. Since they knew that this house in Redding was a "safe house" and bought especially for the WPP, they wanted to have another, closer look at it taking a bug detector with them. At their first visit there no one thought on this possibility, so they had to try now. Maybe a technician or a false postman, or a bribed plumber placed a spying device there to get to know his life-circumstances to find the right moment to take him.

Lisbon and Price had visited the divisional traffic office, the US-citizens registration and the California resident´s registration office in the last days, to search for a leak there, but although they had long talks there was no outcome. Van Pelt was working with Agent Mallory on the internal security, whilst Agent Ramirez of Price´s team tried to get contact with the most endangered other witnesses in this program, the others that were involved in the same case. The last Agent of Price´s team, Hollyman, tried to find out as much as he could about the main suspect in this case; the only one Howard Hanson ever made a statement against, and this was: _Lazar Levine_. This person was in the Sacramento county jail, his major associates had carefully been separated from him to other prisons. Could he be behind this? And if he was, how could he have arranged that? He apparently had no contacts to the outside, he phoned rarely enough to say that, the only remarkable visitor was his attorney sometimes, but this was clear; there were some parts of his process that weren´t ready yet. The state attorneys were pleading for the ultimate, death sentence behind the scenes. No one knew until now how many people he really had harmed, tortured, lied on or ordered to kill. He was guarded 24/7, but still somehow he must have had influence on the murder of Howard Hanson.

The only one who seemed not to be working was Jane, but the impression was wrong. It was true that he never accompanied his fellow Agents to the sites they went, not even Lisbon, but they called him more than often for advice, every now and then one of his co-workers that were currently in the Headquarter passed by and showed him some old case file or the newest investigation results on the computer. Once asked why he did not wish to accompany anyone, he only answered that he was more useful in the bureau where all the facts were melting together, than outside on a scavenger hunt. He was right with that; and Agent Prices team was thankful that they also could address him in difficult situations; and Jane was really almost round the clock in the CBI; he only went "home" twice a day for a shower and some other minor important things, the rest of the time he spent reading files in his roof chamber or his bureau corner.

Every now and then one of his own team wondered slightly about his behavior – he was at the CBI day and night, and although he pretended to, he still did not pay real attention to the current case.

It was an investigation with some very difficult riddles; they could still not find _any_ trace to the murderers, and no connection to Lazar Levine, even though they were convinced that he was behind this. They had checked out all other possibilities than that not existing link to Levine. Hanson had no enemies in his identity as Mr. Andrew Greene, and before the thing with Lazar Levine and his bar he was free of any charge – otherwise he could not have been with the Sacramento police. So after all investigations every path led to Lazar Levine.

And now another day of work that would most likely have no real effect was coming up. All of them looked like they had had not enough sleep over the last days, and if they had, it was not really relaxing. The worst of all was that some reporters seemed to have picked up the case and started to be nerve racking, so now the public relations division of Brenda Shattrick also wanted some statement for the media.

»Jane.« Lisbon sighed his name more than she really spoke it, while she let herself drop on the couch besides him. »Good morning first; but then back to work – immediately. I think you´ve heard it already, cause you were here earlier than me.«

»No, I never left. I was here overnight and read some files…« he answered. »While I dif so, I found out something… we´ve got to talk secretly somewhere.«

Lisbon knew at once that he did not refer to the current "official" case, so she blocked at once: »Not now. Wainwright wants a report later this afternoon. We need to collect all our investigation results together and present them what we got. They want to select some details for Brenda, because we need to inform the press tomorrow. The reporters know that something is going on; maybe someone close to the media listened to the police radio talks about the corpse in the woods near Shasta Lake; or one other civilian wants to make rumor and money with it. So Wainwright, Shattrick, or even Bertram are up to do a little press audition at nine or ten a.m. tomorrow, to prevent too many speculations.«

»And what do I have to do with it?« Patrick asked back. »I don´t talk to Brenda Shattrick nor Wainwright, nor to the press.« It was not mere imagination; his undertone really was hard on the edge to resentment.

The silence that followed his words was tense, not nice. In the last, busy days they had not talked much, and… and if they would have time to do, it was as if they couldn't. They both felt as if an invisible wall was building up itself between them; like never before. And this was strange – they could have been much more weld together because of those happenings, but on the contrary, it seemed to part them more and more with every day.

Now Lisbon answered his question; remaining strictly with the facts: »Wainwright and Price begged me to ask you a favor. Would you please visit the county jail and Mister Lazar Levine with me? We´ll talk to him. We are all sure that he must know about the murder of Howard. Maybe you notice something in his behavior that gives you a sign that he really is involved somehow.«

»Mm, maybe this would be a good idea. He´s a good liar, but when I met him before I got the impression that he cannot conceal his disgusting pleasure about the pain he brought to others; be it when he did it himself, or when he ordered someone to do it.« He wrinkled his brow. »Okay, if you want, we´ll talk to him.«

Jane followed her into the elevator, and the dark silence between them bothered them both. In the car they hardly spoke a word; only the most necessary things concerning the case. It was a heartrending admission they had to make when they left the car: _They were happy that this drive was over_. For the part of a moment Lisbon could hardly breathe without feeling the aching pain of emptiness in her chest. The least thing she ever wanted was that Jane´s friendship was taken from her – but right that seemed to happen now.

:-:

Luckily the guard at the prison gate distracted them with his welcoming words and the first questions. When they arrived at the door to the visitor´s room, they were both anxious and stern. They knew what Lazar Levine had done; of course they had read again the investigation files on all his crimes.

Levine was awaiting them in the visitor´s room, he had an orange overall and sat there alone; there were no other visits allowed at this time.

His expression was still unbroken, not really evil or crazy as one might expect it; but he knew what he wanted and how to get it, he was selfish and unwilling to feel with other people. The only thing that mattered for him was his own pleasure, even now, behind bars.

»Oh, look who´s visiting! Agent Teresa Lisbon and Patrick Jane; who is consultant for the CBI. Nice to meet you again. I still remember you, and the rumors in this estate also brought some interesting news about you to my ears.« he smiled. With a few words he had made clear that he knew very well who they were, and maybe more. And of course he knew why they were here: »It´s about the murder of this scum-bastard in the woods near Shasta Lake. Am I right? Finally someone killed that filthy traitor. You already know who did it? I want to send him my regards and flowers.«

Lisbon sat down opposite to him, Jane placed himself leaning at the wall, but a guard in front of the door pointed to the rules that were written on the wall: »_Take a seat during your visit. Don´t change seats once seated. No touching or photos allowed_« So he sat down at the next table to look at the conversation from some distance.

Lazar Levine was still as friendly as one could be: »Why don´t you join us, Mr. Jane, or should I say your little joke name? You don´t have to be left out. Come to the party.«

»No thank you.« Patrick replied. »I am fine here… I´ve had enough when I met you once. I´ll just sit here and watch.«

Lisbon cast a fast look at him, then she started her questioning: »Tell me what you know about the murder of Mister Howard Hanson, also known as Andrew Greene.«

Levine smiled back at her: »Well, what I know? Maybe I know more than you, maybe not. What difference makes that for me? I am happy that this heap of crap is dead and I am only sorry that I weren´t there to watch it happen. You can´t connect me to that, you never will. And even if you try – you won´t have any proof. You are in a dead end here.«

And now suddenly he changed his behavior and started complaining: »You only try to talk me in to this because you are in a dead end and the only connection that this Howard-guy had to any "_oh-so-bad_" man is me. I am the only one who´s the most likely person to do this. _You_ are the ones that accuse me falsely; _you_ are the ones that tricked me. This is why my attorney is still fighting for me. This is why I seek the help of a psychologist and the chaplain. I am falsely accused and that tears me down. None of the witnesses who made their statement against me is really reliable. There are doubts in this case! This is all a big conspiracy against me, maybe led by someone in the police or high politics itself. I was put in charge by false witnesses. I am the victim here…«

Lisbon interrupted him: »Oh, don´t be pathetic, Mister Levine, we all know what you´ve done and that you are in here maybe expecting the death sentence; for right! You have got something to do with the murder of Mr. Hanson, I am sure about that.«

Now Levine smiled again, it was such a sort of a smile that makes a cold shudder run through your body. He whispered: »Um, if you know this, Miss Lisbon, you also must realize what I am capable of. Probably I am going to die in here, but … if I have to, I will die satisfied.« His look flickered to Jane for the part of a second, then he stared back into Lisbon´s eyes, still smiling, but silent. He leant back and crossed his arms in front of his body.

They were both convinced that he would not say anything more, so they called for the guard to open the door. When they were walking back to the car, Teresa asked: »So what do you think about him?«

»I think he did it.« Jane said. »I don´t know how, but he´s to put in charge for the murder of Mister Hanson. We will have to prove it still, and this won´t be easy.«

»Hm.« she replied. »We must find some contact that he probably had out of his prison cell. I think we must check on the attorney he sees, on every single phone call he made since he was in, and on the attorney and the psychologist. He´s seeing the prisons chaplain too, but I think that this man can be cut out of our investigations.« She hesitated to open the car´s door and looked at Jane. »We´re still here, let us talk to the chaplain right now, maybe that will save us time.«

Patrick agreed vaguely: »Maybe.«

They returned to the prison entrance and the guard let them pass a second time. Again a few of the prisoners who were behind the fence of the inner court stopped their playing or muscle training, to whistle and call out for Lisbon, but she did not care. They went upstairs to the director´s office, and were called in about only four or five minutes later.

The director asked: »How can I help you, again? Do you have more questions for our guest Mr. Levine? He´s only allowed one visit a day. You have to return tomorrow.«

Lisbon shook her head: »No, we don´t want to talk to him, but to the prison´s chaplain. Levine told us that he talks to the priest now and then.«

»Yes, he does, not regular, like some other prisoners, but he does. I´ll call him here, if you like. But I can tell you that he won´t give away any confessing. He´s taking that very serious. He won´t betray them, even if it was something very bad.«

Lisbon insisted: »My consultant and I talk to him. Now.«

»I´m not.« Jane said that moment.

Teresa felt like being stabbed from behind: »You are not?« she re-asked.

»No. If you don´t mind, director, I´ll be waiting outside, maybe running round a little bit. We´ll meet at the car, Lisbon. Good bye, Sir.« He turned round and left the office.

The CBI Agent remained, delivered to the slight sarcasm of the prison director. He asked: »Your consultant is not up to consult you, isn´t he?«

»Uhm, I think that he only doesn´t like chaplains. But I don´t need him anyhow.«

:-:

About an hour later they met again at the car, and Lisbon used the drive to tell him what the chaplain said, and that this man was really no subject of any investigations. The prison chaplain really knew some of the deepest secrets of some of the prisoners, and he was a long time in this business. He could very good distinguish between those men who meant their confessions honestly, and the others, who only asked for his advice so that they look better at the next parole term.

»He did not tell me what Levine said to him, but he said that this man was one of the prisoners that only consulted him because of calculation. Levine wants that his visitor´s file contains talks to him, for whatever cause.« She sighed. »The chaplain is very experienced, but cannot be invited as a witness before court. If there is another hearing, they will see the consulting terms with the clergyman in Levines file, which makes him look better.«

Jane nodded: »And the chaplain can´t tell the jury the truth because then he would act against his seal of the confessional; which would of course backfire at him. So Levine comes off with this. They look in the files, see that he´s been talking to a clergyman, confessing and repent maybe feel sorrow for what he did… a good move.« He cleared his throat.

»Teresa, please let me tell you what I found out, while we are still in the car, only the two of us.«

She took in a deep breath: »Fire away, then. If you can´t wait…«

»I´ve re-read all the files we´ve got about Red John, also those where someone tried to "make believe" that an attack was made by him, and got the impression that the attack on you was…« That second both of their phones rang out, almost simultaneously.

Jane, who was not driving, took the call. »Cho.« he said. »Who´s calling Lisbon?«

»Rigsby.« Cho answered, and turned to his colleague in the Headquarter: »You can hang up, I got Jane. Lisbon is with him.« then he was back: »Turn on the speaker please.«

»Done it.« Patrick replied.

Cho continued: »Ok, listen, both of you. Wainwright wants to be updated at three pm instead of half past four. Bertram has announced his coming, he wants to be informed too, and because of term collisions they´ve agreed to meet earlier. Bertram is anxious and nervous; some high politician has asked him about the current case – about the body in the woods, that a close friend of that high politician had found. So there are rumors in the Capitol, that´s not good. We have to stop that chit-chatting before the weekend. They will have a press conference tomorrow with good results.«

»Oh shoot.« Lisbon cursed. »We´ve got so much to do, and I must add the statements from Levine and the chaplain… Cho, would you please write down what I tell you right now? So we save a little bit of time.« She started to dictate him the statement of the clergyman, and was still talking when she stopped at the CBI parking lot.

They returned to the CBI building right one hour before Wainwright wanted to have his meeting; and there was plenty of work to do. Van Pelt, Rigsby and Cho had nearly typed their fingers off at the keyboards of the laptops, but there was no time to print all the relevant facts on handouts; they had to prepare a show on beamer and screen.

It was not much what they could present the bosses, and everything was not very nice. Nevertheless the small bureau of Wainwright was full of people no one had an idea who killed poor Mr. Hanson. Although in the meantime they were sure that Lazar Levine was most likely the client of the mercenaries and murderers; they could see no reliable connection to this jailbird, so he was nothing – but out of reach until they had a real proof. The statement of the chaplain was another part in this puzzle; if he was not really confessing but using that clergyman-visits as a "nice-maker" of his file, he was still big in planning and not broken or lost in the prison. There must be a connection, that was clear, but they still had no idea where the leak in the chain of the witness protection program was, and how they had been able to find him.

So they only could report about the life of Mister Andrew Greene, the new identity of Howard Hanson, and about the life and career that Hanson had made before his downfall. They had all the facts concerning Howard aka Greene, but nothing about the murderers.

Bertram sighed: »So at least we can bury the poor man that was murdered, can we?« he asked. »We cannot close the case of course, but we´re ready with examining his body.«

»Yes.« Agent Price confirmed. »We´ll bury him as Mr. Andrew Greene and I suggest that the press only needs to know about the murder of Greene; nothing about the rest, for the moment. His murderers will be found, of course, but the man himself should find his eternal rest on holy ground. That smoothes the public meaning.«

Director Bertram agreed to that: »Fine. As long as we can feed the media with some shocking story they won´t ask about the leak in out witness protection program. Please prepare some facts for Brenda Shattrick, concerning the murder in the woods and make clear that we still search for his killers. Give them as less information as possible of course, but enough to silence them for a while. Ah, and let be clear, that, for he had no relatives or someone else close to him, that the CBI will grant his funeral. People love it if we take care for our victims.« He turned to the two team leaders again: »Agent Lisbon, Agent Price, continue with your good work.«

Wainwright added: »We´ve come so far now that we can split up the parts of the investigations again; except for necessary and information exchange, of course. Agent Prices team – please try to find out who´s the leak in the witness protection program, concentrate on this. Do this on your own as long as it is possible, trust no one, if not needed. Try to prove that Levine, our main client-suspect, really is behind this; or prove that we are wrong with our suspicions. His lawyer must not know anything about that; he could use this at court, if we make any false accusations. And, besides, take a closer look at that attorney of Mister Levine, will you? Levine must have some connection to the outside. Maybe it´s the lawyer.«

Price and his team member Agents nodded, and left the room with words of good bye.

Then Wainwright turned to Lisbon: »Your team... oh my, I almost don´t try to ask you… try to find those murderers, will you? It is not a nice job, for that torturing and the kind of murder was not very nice, but… we have to. Stay in contact with the Shasta Lake and Redding police. I´ve read the file of Mr. Levine and the process files against him – a disgusting person. The most of his favorite mercenaries were convicted with him, and the attorneys looked after that no two of them were together in one jail. Find out what you can about them. If only one of them talks, we might have some track to follow.«

»We will.« Lisbon said, then her team also left Wainwright´s bureau.

Another time full of stress lay before them and at this time the brutality of the case affected them all more than they liked to admit.

:-:

_Monday morning _

The press conference was over; the most media were up to send the revelations on their midday and maybe evening news. They were not so important to make a breaking news report and this was really fine for all the CBI Agents. Breaking news always made more wind than solid, common reports during the usual news time. The promise to bury the poor murdered man calmed everyone down and after the weekend no one seemed to be talking any more about that case. Bertram was satisfied, and the increasing pressure that had haunted the investigating teams because of the press statement had been decreased a great amount. So they had only to do the day shift over the weekend and had been able to go home in the evenings, so they got a back little bit of their loss of sleep, although now and then the cruel pictures kept returning.

This day, the first of the new week, Lisbon and Van Pelt had a meeting with the attorney of Mr. Levine, who had been so friendly to offer them his ten o´clock term. They met at the CBI in the morning, packed the most needed things and were off to the attorney.

Vincent Delanor was a balding, broad, if not to say fat man with an expensive suit, and a really luxurious bureau. »What can I do for you, CBI? Is it about Lazar Levine again?« he asked. He was friendly, but his voice let them know that he´d been asked about his major client already once too often.

Lisbon started: »We only got to know that you are one of the only visitors of Mr. Levine. Does he talk to you much, respecting the fact that you seem to be one of the very less persons outside the prison that still care for him?«

»No. We´re talking about his case, and that is a secret between attorney and client. He more than once insisted that he was tricked into this, that he´s not guilty. And by all means, I have found some evidence that he really was tricked. And I can tell you, if we re-open the case, he´ll be much better off. Did you know that your consultant… ah…« he flickered through some papers, »Ah, yes, a Mr. Patrick Jane, sneaked into his club without official permission, and started sniffing round there? You need a warrant, you know? And not only that; Agent Lisbon! Your Mr. Jane also provoked my client without any cause; from the beginning to the end. And he hurt one of Mr. Levine´s guards. You understand, no wonder that my client got mad at this time. I mean, being spied without official permission and in addition to that, pure sarcasm? I think that this would interest the jury. Shall I continue?«

»No, it´s enough, and this is just ridiculous.« Van Pelt said with a very hard voice. »You are his attorney and you know more than you tell us.«

Vincent Delanor smiled, and he looked like a heap of an old, slimy thing when he leant back in his seat: »Of course I know more than I tell you. We will see at court, Agent Van Pelt. As I recall, you also took part of that unauthorized entry. You shot a door lock; that is damage to property. And you endangered the lives of my client and his friends, because of the ricochet of the bullets. That will also be part of our…«

»Oh shut up with that crap!« Lisbon roared, and not only the fat lawyer startled, but Van Pelt too. It was just so unusual that her boss got that mad that she lost her self control! And it seemed, as if Teresa was not ready yet: »I can´t tell how I´d love it to stuff back your nonsense into…« That moment, her phone rang out; that seemed to get her rage level down in a second. She excused herself for a moment and left the bureau of the attorney. It was Luther Wainwright who told her with a stern voice, that there had been another attack that may be linked to the gruesome murder of Howard Hanson aka Andrew Greene.

She informed Van Pelt immediately: »We have to leave.« then she turned to Mr. Delanor: »We will do everything to prove that your client earns the death sentence that was judged for him in the first process. See you at court, if not earlier.«

»You can try, Agent Lisbon.« the fat man called after her. »You can try.«

Teresa did not pay any attention to these offending words. She heard them well, but decided that it was not worth it. Instead of discussing with the lawyer, she told Grace: »We shall go there without returning to the CBI, the others will meet us there. It´s not far away and we have to hurry. This time the victim is still alive. But the doctors say that it is very critical. And that they´ve never seen someone like this before. So be prepared. We go to the _San Francisco Seaside_ hospital.« It was enough to know this to make them feel very uneasy about what might be expecting them.

:-:

And really… the encounter with the victim was so much revolting, that even the toughest of the Agents did not really know what to do – they were so shocked that they could hardly breathe, not even to think of a talk. Agent Price forced himself to go in the room with one of his male teammates; the tall, afro-American Gregory Hollyman, but his steps were uneasy and full of reluctance.

It was also the first time ever that Lisbon backed off so far until she could feel Jane behind her; he immediately put both his hands on her shoulders to show her clearly that he was right there, and won´t go away. Nobody paid much attention to that unusual touch right now; it only was natural to react in this way.

Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt sat outside the ICU, Agent Mallory had the medical report in her hands right now, and her teammate Agent Ramirez was also reading it over her shoulder – but they all had the impression that he only wanted to be next to his younger, female colleague in this very unwelcomed situation; to support her with his presence. This was nothing to wonder about; Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt also were close together, trying to cope with their shocked and really overwhelmed feelings. None of them spoke a word.

The victim was not unknown this time, therefore they could compare the name to the files they had in the CBI. It was Peter Thompson, the State´s primary evidence against Lazar Levine. They also had given him a new name, "Winston Airdale", but this meant not much now – or maybe it did, because "Winston Airdale" was happily married in Southern Oregon since one and a half year and his wife was also missing.

What they did to him was indescribable, the medical report fixed itself on the facts only, but what he really had to endure no one could say. His tongue was cut out and his face severely mutilated; and there was not much left from his limbs – after the medical treatment where the doctors had do amputate even more parts of his legs and arms because of the massive infection; they must have held him at least one, maybe two days in a state like this, with ligaments so that he did not bleed out. He was only a corpus. He lived, yes; but whoever did this took care that he suffered the most imaginable pains, but they let him live.

»Oh this can´t be true.« Price said. He coughed and turned to a doctor who was standing at the door: »Is there any possibility that we can talk to him?«

The doctor shook his head: »No, not at the moment. He won´t hear you and he won´t see you, so communication is not possible. He´s still in a critical state. We do everything to keep him alive, yes, but… god knows that he´d be better off the other way. Whoever did this wanted to be sure that he´s found at the right time; so that we _must_ keep him alive.«

Lisbon said through clenched teeth, feeling her stomach revolt: »Can we try later?«

»Maybe.« The doctor said. »But you can´t do nothing now.«

Jane asked the CBI-Teams: »Shall we talk to the coast guard officers who found him?«

The doctor said: »They are also here, they need shock treatment.«

So they went downstairs to the room where the coast guard officers were resting. They were still in a very upset state of mind although they had already talked to the crisis intervention team of the hospital. The older of them took the lead of the talk: »We found a little engine equipped rubber-boat that was driving without someone steering it. There were no other boats in the area; but it was clearly only the life boat of a greater yacht. It kept moving on straight to the bay of San Francisco and maybe one of the bridge´s pillars, so we took on the pursue. We thought of terrorism first, but then we found him. I think I will never forget this. He was so severely hurt but he must have noticed that he was at sea; and with every might he could afford he tried to make us throw him in the water… he so much wanted to die, but we… couldn´t do that. I think that this will also hunt us forever.«

The both coastal guard man were really down with their nerves.

Jane stepped closer to the older man and showed him a shining coin. Slowly he started to move the coin and spoke with a soft voice: »Look at the light, only concentrate at the shimmering light, like the sun at the surface of the sea in the mornings; in the bright midday and the endless wideness of the dusk, when the sun disappears behind the waves…«

Price rose his hand and protested: »He´s hypnotizing him. He must not do that.«

Lisbon stopped him with a gesture and whispered: »Don´t stop him. I trust his experience with this… I think he´s up to help them. You see, the younger officer also is falling for him. A wonder how Jane makes the coin glitter, isn´t it?«

The team leading Agents watched the scene so closely that they almost got hypnotized too, but Jane seemed to notice that and moved his body a little bit, so that they could only see his back, but not the blinking and reflecting coin. »You love the sea, both of you, don´t you? Therefore you chose to be with the coastal guard. To be at sea and to help people who are in danger, or to prevent mischief done out there. True?«

»Yes.« the coast guard men answered in unison.

Patrick asked: »Go back to the moment when you saw that little boat. You told me that your gaze was fixed on that little boat, and that you noticed no other vessel nearby. But maybe your subconscious knows… Look deep inside you as if there was a wide ocean without anything disturbing… just try to remember if you have seen another boat.«

»I have.« the younger officer said. »I was steering, my colleague had the binoculars, and was searching the sea between the coast and us part for part.«

»Yes I was.« the older said. »I kept an eye on the shoreline.«

The younger man continued: »A white yacht, bigger I think than our coastal guard boat. Must be a rich man´s boat, looked well cared for. It went almost the opposite direction of the rubber boat, but then Frank cried out that there was the small boat and I looked away too. I… The name of the yacht started with a W and L, it was a two part name, _White… White Lady_?_ Wind Lady_?_ Wild Lily_? Not sure, it was so far away. But it had an American flag.«

»Thank you, you did really well.« Patrick ensured him.

The older man was so much beaten with shock that he almost started to cry under hypnosis, and told between sobs: »God… the man has to live in this body… he… never… oh, he never even has the chance to kill himself. Oh shit…«

Jane calmed him down: »Frank, that´s your name, right? And you are Paul, aren´t you?« he asked the younger man.

»Yes.« they answered in unison again.

»Frank, and Paul, I want you to remember one thing. You saved a life out there. The man was severely hurt, you won´t ever be able to deny this. But you did everything right. You did a good job and there´s nothing that you have to make any self-reproach about. Ok? As soon as I wake you up you won´t remember the clear vision of the mangled body of that man, you won´t remember that you made yourself grim thoughts about that it would be better for him to die. You are both humans, with very human feelings, and it is clear that you were able to feel with the other man in that situation. You are good people, good men, but don´t allow that this question ruins your life.« His voice became constantly more like a whisper so that they had to listen to him very closely. And suddenly he slammed the aluminum board for the med-reps against the metallic bed post; the men startled in shock and blinked, looking at each other disoriented; but Jane gave them no explanation.

He only stood up and turned to the CBI Agents: »We have the name of a boat. Let´s do something with that, and… for all sakes, please tell the police department of the new home town of Mr. Thompson that they _have to_ find his wife. I think she´s… not in a very good state. If they took her…« he needed no more words.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: This time it is blood

_Some day in the week, late evening – very late evening. _

»Teresa?« with this cautious question Jane pushed open the door to the ladies room in the CBI. »Are you ok or should I call for Grace to help you?«

Her voice was slightly muffled due to the closed toilet cabin, but she managed to sound growling: »Jane, leave me alone, I… I am old enough to throw up alone, ok? Let poor Van Pelt out of it, she´s quite in the same state as I am. So would you just go, please?«

»We all are.« Patrick replied, and had no intention to leave.

She flushed and opened the door. »This case always gets worse.« she whispered, until the running water from the tap overpowered her words. »Where is this going to end?«

Jane shook his head: »I am afraid, I do not know. Do you want some black tea? Patrick´s special edition?« he smiled a little bit.

»You´re not up to drug me into some sleep, aren´t you?«

»For sure not. Rigsby tried one half an hour ago. He´s still fine.«

They went back to the kitchen together, where he prepared the tea. »You look overtired.« he said to her, while the water started to boil, then he gazed over to the others: »They all do. Maybe I should really drug them, so that they get some really relaxing sleeping hours. This case is going to break us – if we´re not careful.«

Cho, who had heard a little bit of the conversation, joined them and said: »Careful? We can´t be careful with this, I must admit it comes back to me every time I close my eyes. My girlfriend really tried to distract me last night so that I get some sleeping _minutes_, but I´d prefer to work all night through, than to …«

»We need to clear this.« Lisbon said with a firm voice. »As long as we don´t get them we´ll be haunted… I mean, we´ll be haunted by this afterwards for sure, but at least we did everything we could as soon as the case is closed.«

This moment Van Pelt seemed to get a breakdown. She shivered and coughed for breath, trying hard to ban the tears that ran down her cheeks. Lisbon took the tea that Jane had prepared for her and cast one excusing look at him, but he only smiled.

She went directly to Grace´s desk and put the tea cup down next to her: »Patrick Jane special edition.« She said. It was the best to try to distract her younger teammate now, not to mention that gruesome case again. »It´s still burning hot, but it smells good. He should get a patent pending on this, ere someone tries to copy it illegally.«

Van Pelt smiled a little bit and wiped her tears away: »But it is not full of drugs, is it?«

»Why does everyone think that I am up to drug someone?« Patrick asked from the kitchen. »That´s a bit concerning, I must say. Don´t you trust me?«

»Not entirely.« Cho replied.

For the split of a second they had to smile, but this was almost too short to be true.

It was Wednesday, very, very late evening… almost Thursday now, and they were still at work. None of them could go home – _or wanted to_. It was a good excuse to stay awake, telling everybody that they had to write down the statements and facts immediately, and that this could not wait any longer. Although at least Cho and Rigsby had their girlfriends waiting at home to comfort them, for what reason ever, they also preferred to stay with the team, maybe weld together because of the sheer unbearable case they were working on.

Gillian, the wife of Mr. Airdale aka Thompson, had been found by a jogging couple the day before, in the early morning. She was alive but very unstable; she had to be kept under current custody in the hospital since she was there. She was found at the outback of her home town in Oregon; Gold Beach. To get the possibility of a statement the CBI team had to fly northwards today with one stopover in Medford, to the municipal airport of Gold Beach; then they had visited the woman and, also today, they had returned to the CBI.

The difficult task to write down her statement was still not done, they had agreed to get some rest before they would turn to the cruelest part; but until now no one had made the decision to leave the office until now… and with the tick of the second it was Thursday now. It had also been impossible to find rest during the long flight, because the pictures always kept crawling back into their minds. They could not judge who´s been suffering more, Mr. Airdale, or his wife. To be honest… no one wanted to judge about this!

After this night Teresa was sure that she had to visit her doctor – maybe she would get some short time prescription of two or three sleeping pills, only over the weekend, or something. She was more or less constantly awake since guessed forty-eight maybe fifty-five hours; probably longer. Now the ghastly thoughts of the case started to mix up with something else; she knew that it came from being overtired. Three nights of good – _even drug induced!_ – sleeping would help to get the head clear.

She had ordered Rigsby and Cho to take two days off, although it was not weekend, but Thursday and Friday. Rigsby had Sarah to calm him down a little bit, and also Cho should have the time to find some rest; wherever his girlfriend may take him to. She could not do much for Grace and Patrick, but they reassured her that it would be the best to leave the office for a while, no matter where everyone wanted to go.

Before they could leave, they still had to get the permission of the head of the department, Wainwright. The young Special Agent was immediately ok with the decision; he had to admit that the Agents had worked constantly for a long time, and he could see that they really did look very exhausted. So he was ok with the two days, Thursday and Friday, off, in addition to the weekend. Slowly they all packed their things together; Rigsby seemed not so sure that he would be still able to drive his car, so he ordered a taxi to bring him home, the others tried to leave with their own cars, but with care.

As if it was foreordained destiny, they did not come far – at least not Lisbon and Jane. It must have been the very moment when Cho arrived back home, and met there with his girlfriend; because not a long time had passed since they all left the CBI.

Lisbon´s phone rang out only a minute or so before she could call her house doctor to plead for a term this afternoon. Cho seemed to be very upset, although he tried to keep his voice sounding calm. Besides him someone was crying; to Teresa´s fear it must be his girlfriend. Something must have happened – she only hoped that the woman was ok.

»Boss, someone must have been in my house the last night. It was out of mere luck I think that I was not at home and Summer spent the night with her best friend…« he made a pause. »I´m awfully sorry, but I think you´d better look at this. You and Jane.«

Teresa´s heart missed one beat. She almost instinctively knew what must have happened: »Ok, I round up Jane and be with you as soon as possible.«

Cho and Summer looked at the bedroom wall with a mix of shock and horror, the woman was still weeping, but more silent now, she tried to stop sobbing. The sight clenched her chest and made it difficult to have enough air for both actions; so she had to decide between crying and breathing. The fact that one needs to breathe to survive made that choice easy.

_This was a bad dream_.

Cho was very silent now, continued looking round, and noticed that the bed sheets were also a complete mess; blood-stained and at one point almost soaked in blood; a small soup-pot was there, toppled over, the blood must have been in this pot. Then he looked back below the ghastly painting at the wall. They already knew where the blood came from; the mangled body of the stray cat Summer used to feed sometimes at night was lying next to the wall, right below the red smiley face. He could not remember afterwards how long he stood there only looking at the wall painting, which had an evil smile, the lines slightly, but not much run down because the blood was not entirely dry when it was painted on the wall. After a while he tried to get Summer out of the room, begged her to prepare some tea, and she listened to him; maybe happy to escape that horror vision.

This was not funny. He tried to think over the possibilities. What if they´d been at home? Would they be lying here, cut and stabbed to death? Who did this? At first of course there was Red John. They had worked on his case for years; this was well-known by anyone whom you might ask. But he had never turned against one of them. He could, of course, have changed his mind, but… wasn´t he dead?

Surely also the street gangs knew that. Maybe this was some late rage reaction – in the last years he also had some encounters with street gangs who were capable of such a thing. For sure it was not the work of a mere burglar; the attack clearly went after him personally, and it was surely pure good fortune that he was still alive. It was well-planned.

But why now? And why this Red-John-painting at the wall? All people round thought that RJ was history, shot by Jane – without that Special Agent Darcy from the FBI maybe. The FBI had started investigations about the possibility that it wasn´t so. If not, Jane was in trouble, Lisbon was in trouble, for goodness sake, they all were in trouble. The red face was painted with a lot of concentration, so that the drying blood did not drip too much.

Ok. This was the last thing he needed to be convinced that it was better to call the police also. Whoever did this – must be crazy, or… worse. But again he hesitated.

He looked back on the face at the wall; it was so much like in the Red John murders. Although… it did not entirely fit; the eyes were wrong. Was he alive? So no police, to protect the others, especially Jane?

He shook his head. Probably it was over. If this was a street gang´s doing it was maybe an initiation rite; like some have to steal a car, rob a pharmacy or stab an innocent person. The more he thought about it, the more this idea seemed likely to him. He was known as a former member of the "Avon Park Playboys" and now he had completely changed the sides. That would make him a very attractive target for gangs, for a test of courage and devotion. This was a real mess; disgusting and frightening.

They cut the cat´s throat to get to her blood which they used to paint the wall and splatter it all over the bed. He was sure that it would have been easy for them to burglarize a butchers shop to get some animal blood there; but no. And of course they´d painted a red smiley face. They must know for sure that he was with the Red John investigators. This was probably a "very-funny" joke-attempt. Would this be better than if it was really Red John?

Maybe it was the best not to involve the police here; he knew well how this could end. The aggressions on both sides would build up more and more, until maybe really someone died or there was a massive street-gang-war. No policeman liked it if someone of them is attacked by gang boys, and no gang likes it to be wrongly suspected. He decided to try to find out on his own. That was not the concern of the whole team; they had something else to focus on right now, but Lisbon and Jane should know. He was sure that they would keep silent if they came to the conclusion that this was only the doing of some street gang, and that they would let handle him this.

:-:

A little bit later Patrick and Teresa arrived at Cho´s house. He and Summer were awaiting them at the door but stepped back so that none of the neighbors cold see inside. Of course both newcomers were shocked when they saw the mess in the bedroom and the bloody painted arrows in the entrance area that pointed in this direction.

Cho asked: »Jane, can you tell me, is this the style of Red John? And if it was him, what about the fact that you shot him? What would the attorneys say, or the jury, if they knew that he´s still out there? Until now the FBI only tracks a faint evidence line, but…«

Lisbon added: »We must think about that. So, what do you say, Jane?«

The consultant answered: »Yes, it looks a lot like Red John´s style, but as you said, you are still alive and not even severely hurt. He killed all his victims in the past. He would have let it be, if you or Summer weren´t here, and would have returned another day. He never did something like that before, this is not his manner. Why should he start now?«

Cho sighed: »So I thought. My first impression was some impostor or gang; If this is so I don´t want to involve the police because I can handle this much better by my contact persons. I´ll find out who it was, only to be sure that this won´t happen again – or worse, happens to you, Summer. Maybe it is better to stay with your mom in Reno for a while.«

Summer protested: »I will never leave you! Don't even think about that; if needed we´ll keep on night watch. I stay.« She crossed her arms and looked stern.

Jane stopped again in front of the face at the wall and stared at it for a while, but remained quiet. Then he turned around and let his gaze flicker through the room. There was nothing missing, nothing toppled over or broken, only the bed looked like a real mess, and of course there was the cat´s body at the foot of the wall. The throat of the poor animal was cut with a single streak, precisely through larynx and the arteries. There was not much blood left that had leaked out since the cat was lying here, the most part must have been used for the paintings and the splashes on the bed. A disgusting idea…

Cho asked: »Have you seen it all? Then I´d like to clean up the mess.« He took two or three photos with his own camera just to have something to show his contact people when he was asking round, but took no picture that showed clearly where it was from; it could have been made in any house that had approximately the same wall colors or furniture.

Summer said: »I´ll help you with that, if you are sure that you don´t want to call the police.« She smiled. »But I also think it´s better to handle it alone if it was a gang´s doing. Come on, let us get the cleaning equipment, Kimball.« The two of them left the room.

In fact Teresa was really worried now. What happened to her colleague was one step worse than what she had endured. It was the same attacker, there was no doubt, and now it was clear that this person was really after them. The attacker found her in the Inn far out in the woods, and now Cho´s home; and he entered somehow without setting the night-alarm off, and without leaving traces. It was a pro-job. Someone wanted to be sure that the RJ case was reopened. Maybe Red John himself was back, but would he act like this? It did not really fit him to let somebody live… if he´d kill her and Cho it would have been the same, maybe – oh, _I really think this again_: it would be better for her to be dead. Then she would not be bothered with those dark thoughts that kept sneaking her up just now and then, like a curse. Or this was his purpose, a new act in this tragedy… he was just playing round, like a child that rips off a fly´s wings just for fun, and watch it crawl and suffering in pain before finally killing it. A thought that made her shiver.

This very moment Jane stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her shoulders from the back, and whispered: »Teresa, let me be there for…«

She freed herself from his embrace, maybe a little bit too hasty, which he noticed of course, and backed off a step, looking worried. But nevertheless she said: »Stop trying to be concerned about me. I am okay. I can and will handle this alone. We now have to support Cho and Summer, we only can hope that those happenings are not connected.«

He shook his head: »I´m afraid they are. This is step two. We did not react to his first attempt, now he´s gone a little bit further. He´s used blood this time, and killed that cat, to show us that he´s really capable of murder. And it´s not important that it is an animal that is lying here. It´s the fact _to take a life_, that matters.«

Lisbon shivered again. It was alarming, yes, and maybe she should start an investigation on this now; better now than too late, if something more happens.

Jane said: »I´ll give you a little bit more time to make the right decisions, Teresa; otherwise I´ll do something on that on my own and if it brings me back to jail… then it has to be so. You can clearly see that this person increases his level of violence. Whoever it is, he or they start to become a real threat.«

She hold against it: »Ok, listen to my proposal. We let Cho ask round his street gang contacts, maybe they know something. Maybe this here was really only an initiate rite. If you compare it fact to fact it is a completely different history – ok, except the smiley face at the wall, but this here looks different to… mine.«

»If you say so.« Jane replied. »I see _much_ coincidence here. So we are disagreed once again. I only hope that this stubborn behavior of you does not lead into another, even worse thing.« These were direct words, and he spoke them with an unusual, hard tone.

Teresa was really wondering, maybe a little bit hurt by his statement, but… he was right somehow. What kind of team leader was she, if she´d risk the health and life of her friends only to cover up her own mishap? Jane disliked that from the beginning, and… and what if the attacker was outraged by the no-reaction-politic, and decided to do something worse next time to show how serious he was. Would it happen to Rigsby? Van Pelt? Herself again? Maybe Cho, Summer, or… Jane?

If she´d start an investigation, she must also investigate against her friend, Patrick. If she proved that the attacks were led by Red John, it was her, who would expose him to a new trial and all – could she ever do this? Would the others do this?

Cho and Summer came back from his storage room with all the cleaning equipment they could carry, but that seemed not to be enough: »I must get some new wall paint and a new mattress.« He sighed after he had tried to remove the blood from the wall, and Summer had taken off the bed sheets. There were still blood stains on the blank bed, and half the wall had a reddish color now. The outlines of the face were still clearly visible.

Lisbon asked: »Do you want us to investigate this? We would do it if you like.«

Kimball shook his head: »Ah, no, thanks. If we start something officially here, it soon could become really big, maybe interesting for another CBI-Team or the FBI, all the people there who had been working or are still working on the RJ case. Which would, in the end, bring Jane back to jail or at least in big trouble; if it is proved that he shot the wrong man. So I will try to get something out "by talking to someone"; you know what I mean. If this proves as the wrong track we still can follow the other. But you can leave now, if you like.«

Summer added: »We only clean up a little bit more and then we´ll go to my house to try to get some rest, as I planned. Kimball must sleep, and the Thursday seems to be half gone already. We´ve got a longer drive... I told no one were we going. So we´ll be safe.«

Cho sighed: »I want to cover up this and not tell the police. That´s definite now.«

Lisbon nodded: »I will respect your choice.«

»And so do I.« Jane added, but Teresa did not really believe him.

Although she had wished to get a little bit of sleep or even rest before she went to her doctor, there was not enough time left. Teresa had got one of the last terms that afternoon and was sitting in the waiting room now, with a mix of emotions running through her body. She was so tired that she could sleep in while walking, but at the same time she was really afraid now from closing her eyes – she always saw some horror pictures because of her overtired state. She was nervous and felt hot or cold, sometimes packed in wool, then as clear and awake as if she was balancing on a knife´s edge.

Finally her doctor, a moderate older man with grayish hair, called her in. »What can I do for you, Miss Lisbon?« he asked, but then he added: »Oh I see, you look really tired, and your circulation must be troubled. May I take a check on your blood pressure?«

»Of course, if you need.« Teresa answered. »But I am only a little bit stressed by my job at the time. I´ve simply overseen and neglected my need to sleep a little bit too long, and now I am so overtired that I can´t find rest. I need some medicine to sleep, for two or three nights, then I´ll be back to normal. They gave me the weekend off, thank god.«

»Hm.« the doctor replied. »Sleeping pills? You know that I have to ask you some questions before I give them to you. One moment…« he looked at the screen of the blood pressure apparatus. »Low, and your skin feels cold. You need a rest; that is clear. If stress is overwhelming, you might need something to calm you down. I agree; above all you asked me only for a short time treatment. But nevertheless, my questions are inevitable.«

Lisbon groaned: »Please, doc… sorry, I only want to sleep, there´s nothing more to it. I have a really cruel case right now and want to concentrate on this, but I can´t if I am so tired that I might oversee one detail. This stress and overtiredness also starts do affect my body… but I think a little bit of sleep will do. It will be the best cure.«

»In which way does the stress affect you?« The doctor asked.

»I forget to eat some times, and my stomach seems to be sick, I get the urgent wish to throw up as soon as I tried to eat something. I am like a raged wild cat sometimes; I growl at people without any cause… and I am over my time… well, to admit it, I lost counting somewhat days ago… it is Thursday, no? No matter, I think. You see, my body is really longing for sleep, even if it is drug introduced.« She smiled weakly.

The doctor again made: »Hm.« Then he went to his medical cupboard and took out a small card-box. »Miss Lisbon, are you sure that you have been right with your counting?«

»Um, yes? I… you don't say…« she jumped to her feet. »No, of course _not_! It´s stress!«

The older man was still calm: »Don´t worry. I only want to make you this test before I give you the medicine, ok? Just use my bathroom. We´ll know in a few minutes. I´ll prepare the prescription form for the pharmacy in the meantime.«

»You can´t really mean that.« Lisbon was still offended. »What if I refuse to make this test? I mean, what do you expect from it? If I say no, what else could there be, than: _No_?«

The doctor was more serious now: »If you refuse the test, I won´t give you the sleeping pills. It´s only for safety, don´t worry. It will be over in five minutes, you get your medicine, you leave, and then you´ll have a nice sleep at home. Everything easy, but it is against the Hippocratic oath to give you that kind of medicine right away.«

»Ok, I´ll do it… to make you content. But under protest! This is ridiculous.« She left her bag in the doctor´s room and took only the pregnancy test with her, read the user´s manual while she walked and returned to the doctor´s desk a few minutes later. »Happy now?« she asked, smiling grimly, when she put the test on the table before him. »And trust me, I used it, and not put it into the tap water. So much I am a law enforcement officer.«

The doctor looked at the test, meanwhile took his pen to sign the prescription, then he wrinkled his brow. »I am sorry. No sleeping pills for you, Miss Lisbon. But I can suggest you some valerian and lavender tea. You…«

»No pills?« Teresa mouthed, and could not believe it.

The doctor shook his head. »No. The test is positive.«

»What?«

»Of course these tests are not working with one hundred percent certainty. Maybe you want to see specialist. A blood test brings better results, if you want to be sure. Whatever… Congratulations.« he smiled widely and stretched out his hand over the table.

Lisbon, who was still standing, took and shook it: »Mm… thank you?« It was like being battered down with a big, blank white hammer. There was absolutely tabula rasa in her mind. »I… should go then, I assume...« she said. »May…maybe I can get a term at my specialist doctor, and… then I come back with the real results and so on.«

»Fine.« the doctor answered. »Do you want to take the test with you, as a memory?«

»I think… no?« it was more a question than an answer, but currently she was feeling like a feather in the wind, and up she goes and down and to and fro and back and forth, whatever… a bad dream, this was all a bad, bad dream.

:-:

She must have sounded really awful on the telephone, because although it was already late in the afternoon now, the secretary of her gynecologist had an emergency term free on the next day, although it was Friday. Usually it was almost impossible to get a term earlier than two, or three weeks in advance. But Teresa did not wonder about that, it was all like being already drugged… almost funny, relaxing… _But why by all means! Why do I feel absolutely nothing!_ Her mind cried out loud once, ere there was this soothing blankness again, like the quietness of a computer that had a complete crash – only a frozen screen where nothing was possible any more. Quiet, calm, not moving, blank, just: Fine.

She had not much memory to this evening, but maybe sleep overran her somehow; and luckily enough there were no dreams or visions. _Wow, maybe I should take that kind of therapy against my sleep deprivation_, she thought, while taking a shower. _No sleeping pills, just some moderate or massive shock each evening… and the insomnia will be gone_.

It was already hot in the morning and had this kind of damp air that usually predicts a thunderstorm. Everyone tried to stay at the shadowy side of the sidewalk, children were begging for ice and cool drinks, even the birds seemed to stay in the shadow.

The waiting room of her specialist doctor was full of people, that predicted a long waiting time, but fortunately the climate control worked well. It was strange, she´d been here often, but never in this situation. Thoughts were running like blinking flashlights, as if you pass by advertising signs on the highway, she could not remember a single one.

When it was her turn, at first the doctor took a blood probe to get it to the analysis, so that it would be ready after examination. »Your house doctor was right.« the gynecologist said. She was a very experienced woman, and used to interpret the body speech and behavior of her patients. »But I think that this was not planned?«

»I… can´t say that it was planned, no.«

The doctor nodded: »Okay, I´ve got those situations from time to time. I can´t tell you what to do; I´ll give you some papers to read, … but in the end there are not many options. It depends on what you want – it is all yours, and your decision, but whatever you like to do, I will accept it. You are grown up enough to think about the consequences; I am your doctor in any way and won´t force you into a choice. But some decisions are final.«

Lisbon shook her head: »Well I am sure, I do not need your papers or any more time to think about it. I want… to end it. Better now than tomorrow. That´s like a nightmare.«

Now the doctor really looked concerned, and her words were mildly reproachful: »Miss Lisbon, this is a very fast and final answer. You seem to be really sure that you don´t want to have this child. You are with the police, is there something… something you have to or want to conceal? Did anyone _force_ you into this? If so, I must reprimand you for not coming earlier. If you were attacked during duty, you should have come right at the moment, even if it was midnight or whatever. I have an emergency number, you know? I mean, with your blood probe is everything else ok, you´ve got no infection or something, but still… you should have made a report about this. You can´t let this guy live on unpunished.«

»I know.« Lisbon answered. »But… I… It does not matter what I thought then.«

Sighing, the doctor agreed to that. »Ok, if you want it… sign this form. In this case we should not wait any longer; at this state of your pregnancy you don´t have to go to the hospital for abortion. I give you a pack of two pills. Take the yellow one tonight, the blue tomorrow evening, and that´s it, your body will some kind of restart your monthly rhythm. You must read this paper and sign it.« She handed the paper over; it contained of two sides and informed the patient about the process and risks of an abortion in this state of pregnancy. »You can take a copy home with you, read it through. Take your time. Ask my assistant for a new check up term about one week after you started treatment.«

Teresa knew that she did not speak much, but maybe it was the best. »Thank you.«

»And remember, you can call me _any_ time you like, ok, if you have questions.«

»Yes. I know.«

»Excuse me, Ma´am, is everything all right?« these were the first words she heard from the man, that was standing next to the park bench. He had an umbrella that protected him from the pouring rain. While he spoke, he positioned one edge of the umbrella above Lisbon, so that she also was sheltered; but that did not help much; she was already soaking wet. »Ma´am?« the man asked again. »Do you need a doctor? Shall I call the ambulance?«

»No, thanks.« Teresa replied. »And would you just leave me alone, please?«

The man smiled. He must be about forty-five, fifty years old, and his brown hair had some gray streaks at the temple. His green eyes were hid behind thin rectangular glasses, and he was about five foot ten, or eleven, he wore a thin rain coat to protect his fine suit from drops. »No, I don´t think that it is a good idea to leave you alone. You´ve been alone much too long – if not, you wouldn´t be sitting out here in the rain, would you? Is there someone I could call for you, a friend, maybe, family? So that they come and pick you up?«

»No. Thank you for your concern. I am ok. I only have… some decisions to make. Alone.« She still refused to talk to him.

Taking a deep breath the man continued to speak: »But is this really the right place to make decisions? A park bench in the middle of a thunderstorm? Lady, of whatever kind your problems are, they are not worth it that you risk your health for them. You´ll get pneumonia if you stay here. The rain is warm, I admit that, but there comes the wind and the chill effect. Don´t you want to go somewhere, where it is dry and sheltered from the wind?«

Now Lisbon smiled: »Are you a doctor or something? You talk like a psychologist.«

»I am not a psychologist, but yes, I am a doctor. An internist; to be precise. I´ve got much to do with people who do not feel very well, be it physically and psychically. So… maybe in time I´ve learned a little bit, to be a… psychologist.« He looked concerned. »Lady, you are trembling all over. Here…« he folded the umbrella, took off his rain coat and his suit jacket, than he placed the jacket and the coat around her shoulders. »It keeps the wind off.« he said. »You can return it to me whenever you like.« He was wet too now, and turned to go.

»Wait.« She called after him and followed him a few steps. »Maybe you really _can_ help me. If I am not disturbing you. Maybe I just need… someone to talk who does not know me.«

»Okay?« he answered. »Let us sit down again at your bench, if you like. But I want a promise from you, as some kind of "thanks for the talk"«

She backed off a little bit, and was alarmed: »What promise?«

»The promise, that I am allowed to pay you a cab that takes you home, after we talked. You need to get rid of that wet clothing, or I will meet you again at the hospital… and I don´t like that. I do the best I can do for my patients, but… you know, being sick is not nice. And if you probably want to meet me ever again, I would prefer some place outside the hospital, with you being healthy.« He smiled and held the umbrella over both of them.

Lisbon answered: »If you want this promise, I promise. Maybe it is the best to go home and get this done… ere I think too much about it. That´s only getting more difficult.«

The man replied: »This does not sound very good, Miss. You don´t plan to do something really stupid to you?« He seemed to be really concerned and guided her back to the bench, where they sat down again. »You are not up to… «

»No. Not for suicide, but… it's the right kind of direction. I… am going to… end a life.«

He sighed: »I am sorry for that… a loved pet, I assume? Maybe your old or sick cat or dog, that you had for twelve, thirteen, or even more years? That´s hard, I know. But at least you have the chance to help your loved pet out of it, if it is really suffering.«

»That might be true, but it is no pet. I got some pills to end a … pregnancy. I am not far, so it is easy, my doctor says. I don´t know why I hesitate.« she said in a very low voice.

»Um.« the man said. He did not expect that, and it really was a difficult situation.

Teresa hurried to say: »You don´t… you don't have to listen if you don´t like.«

»I got your promise, you got mine.« he answered. »But now I know why you don´t seem to notice the coldness of the rain and all. Hm, may I ask, have you talked to the father? What does he think? Or… do you want to lose that child because you don´t like the man?«

»The "or", I fear. I was burglarized and drugged then… I don´t know who´s done it.«

»Are you serious?« the man almost jumped up to his feet. »You weren´t at the doctor right the next day? That's really dangerous, you know? Why the heck did you…« He calmed himself down. »I am sorry. You for sure had your reasons, and I am not in the position to say any word of reproach to you. Please, forgive me. But I understand now why you might not like that child. You are convinced that it is the best solution to take the pills, so that your husband and other children never know what happened to you, so that they are not concerned. Am I right? Wow, that's really hard.«

She shook her head: »This time you guessed wrong, I am neither married, nor do I have children. Never found the right… ah, whatever. I made the decision because of work… and so on. Work also has to do with that burglarize in some difficult way.«

The man wrinkled his brow: »Maybe I go too far to ask you this now; and I would not be surprised if you decide to slap me or leave at once… But have you, even if it was only for a single second, thought of keeping the baby? I mean, not to offend you, but you are not in your twenties anymore… It´s… well… I have gone too far. I should better go.«

»No, I won´t hit you. And yes, one single moment I thought… that… I was jealous on my brother who has his teenage daughter, and… I am still alone. But then…«

He smiled grimly: »Your concern took over again. You were taken without your will, and this child will always remember you on that.«

»But I can´t remember a thing of that night. And I think I would know if… I mean, you can feel it, no, if there was someone with you. But there wasn't a sign. Strange, no?«

»You told me before that you were drugged, that can cover up body signs. But let us play one minute with the possibility that you keep it. The baby knows nothing about that. It will love you, whatever may come. It´s yours, and no one can take it from you.«

She nodded: »You are right, but will I be able to love it?«

»There is no easy answer to this question. But when I look into your eyes, I know… you are a wonderful person. A little bit stressed right now, and outworn; and I really don´t think that it will be easy with a small baby child, but… you _will_ love it.« He smiled again. »And if all this is not enough for you to be able to be a good mum, there are thousands of families in the US that would be so tremendously happy to adopt a baby child. You don´t need to take a life of an innocent thing, that can´t do anything for self-defense… Ok, being honest, it´s just some aggregation of cells now, not feeling much, but it _is_ the beginning of a life.«

»But how should I explain that in my work?«

»This should be your least important question. What others think of you.« he sighed. »Maybe if you think of it for a while longer, maybe you can make out someone in your surroundings that could possibly be the father. At least you could belt him one or deliver him to the police. Or… if not that, make him pay for the medical treatment. If you decide for the worst case, you should look that you get some DNA evidence to get the bastard punished. So I would suggest you to go to a hospital with that. And if you should know him perhaps…«

The next second for Lisbon was like running into oncoming traffic.

The man besides her noticed her blank face: »You ok? Are you feeling dizzy or sick?«

She replied, with a trembling voice: »No, I am not, I only just realized that… I maybe… good gracious heavens, I maybe know the father.«

»Wow, that´s good news.« the doctor clapped his hands once. »So you have a lot of more options. So skip that pill-eating for today, maybe even for tomorrow, ok, and think a little bit about it. Calm down, get your senses together. I am sure you would be more content with your decision, if you had a longer time to think about it.« He stood up. »And now we really should take you home; even I am starting to feel cold now, you must be close to hypothermia. I´ll give you my card, if you like, you can call me for advice. I won´t ask for your name nor for your address. Just follow me to a cab now, and drive home, ok?«

»I will do, as I promised. And thank you… very much. You really helped me.«

»All my pleasure.« he replied, then they walked to the next street to look out for a cab.

The talk to the doctor had been a relief for the moment, but reconsidering it, now, where she was at home, dry and warm again, she knew that there were a lot of more difficulties coming… but one thing was for sure, she had to think about it instead of acting too fast. If it was his; _no, not if_. She had been almost sure that she´d been left unscathed – respecting the felt tip paint on her skin. But then the very next night where she _really_ got carried away… this was like the most kitschy and cheap love and romance story one could ever read. Who could ever wish to be inside such a story? _No one, by all means_.

Could she kill his child? This answer was easy: _No_.

But what would he say if he knew? The simplest thing would be to ask him. Why not? They were both grown up. What would he say if she took the pills, and he´d ever find out? She could pretend that she thought that it was from her nightly visitor. He´d understand, and he´d be so... Oh my… back to the start. Could she explain it with a panic reaction? Surely not, she was not the person for pathetic dramas. And what would the others say? Well, she was old enough to decide on her own. If the baby was only _half_ as nerve racking as he could be sometimes she´d go crazy. Or not? _Hm_.

»Do I want to have Jane´s baby?« she asked herself in the mirror. »Or… could I live with… taking its life?«


	7. Chapter 7

Author´s note: I do not own the song I used in this chapter.

Chapter 7: The enemy of my enemy…

Saturday morning was probably the strangest day in the past few years. She had got not much sleep, but the few hours that she rested, seemed to be enough to survive the day. It must have been a sleep as being dead to the world, without any dreams or visions. All around her lay the photo memories of her own childhood; she had been looking at them the whole evening. Her family… her three little brothers, some photos of her mum and dad, the dogs, of Tommy´s daughter Annie… She sighed and collected them together again, to put them back into the box before breakfast.

In the last moment she skipped the coffee and decided for a glass of milk instead; that was like an instinctive doing, which brought her immediately back to the thoughts that were running through her head. She had made her choice – although she could not say how it would be to be a real mum, and what might be coming to her. But no one could say that exactly. Of course it was her right to be afraid, but she had also the right to be happy.

But there was still something else to do; she had to find Jane and talk to him – to sort it out; better now than on Monday, in the Headquarter. For the beginning it was enough if only he knew. And this was difficult enough! _Huh_, maybe it would be easier to tell her team than him… she smiled. It was as if she could see their faces.

So she got dressed and took her cell-phone, dialed his number and asked, when he answered the call: »Hi Patrick, it´s me, where are you?«

»I´m at the CBI. Why are you asking?«

She sighed; he was in the bureau again, most likely working on their private case. Teresa was sure that he had not allowed him any rest for the last days. Maybe her problem would distract him a little bit. Oh, for sure it would distract him. She smiled. It distracted herself so much that she hardly thought about the cruel case that they were working on. That was concerning; she should be concentrated on solving the cruel murder and torture of the victims. Embarrassing how she was focused on her own now…

»Teresa, hello?« Jane requested. »You there?«

»Oh, um, sorry, of course I am still here. I need to meet you; have you got time to come to the Discovery Park? Let´s say in, about one hour, at the east entrance?«

»I´d love to.« he replied. »See you there.«

:-:

As if the anxiety about the talk to Jane was not enough, she felt sick after the breakfast and stumbled into the bathroom. The thought of being maybe feeling sick at a lot of mornings made her shudder; but the price was worth it. Maybe this was also a side effect of her new condition, but in the following moment she felt really happy again. What would her baby look like? Like him or like her? Coming up next was some trace of doubt, small, but nagging. What if it was not his? What if she was wrong, what if her common sense had betrayed her? Would it be better to find out before telling him? Or… never tell him and turn back to the medicine, she still got in her handbag? She shook her head. He was her best friend; maybe closest to family she´ll ever had since she moved to Sacramento, he would listen to her… or not? The longer she thought about this, the more difficult it seemed.

Finally she was ready, took her car keys and went for the exit. When she opened it, a small white envelope fell down; it must have been placed between door and frame. There was no address and no name upon it, but she was sure that it was meant for her. She did not touch the envelope at once, but looked around in her apartment; searching for some spare rubber gloves, and fortunately there was a pair, folded in her duty equipment. Then she took the message, sat down besides her table and opened it with care. There was nothing inside the envelope except a single sheet of paper; which proved to be a letter. It was hand written with red ink, and the letters were very correct and nice, as if the person had some abilities in calligraphy. Down at the bottom was a friendly looking Red Smiley. Her heart started to beat in a faster rhythm, and her hands got cold. A letter from… Red John?

»_Dear Teresa!_« she read with low voice. »_I am sorry for what happened to you three weeks ago. I want you to know that I did not do this. There is no need to doubt my words, cause if I had decided to visit you, you won´t be alive to read my letter. But clearly someone tried to make it look like my work. And I do not like that. I currently have no clue who tries to abuse my signature. However, they seem to be after Jane. It would be too long to write all my reasons down; but; if you like, you can meet me today evening in the "Experience" Restaurant. I will be there at eight pm. Ask for Mr. Jon Herd_.«

She put the letter down and shook her head. This was not a joke, this time she did not have the trace of a doubt. Teresa knew how Jane looked like when he saw a murder that was really done by Red John – and now for the first time she fully understood him. Never before this serial murder had addressed a single word directly at her. He had talked to Jane; and let him know through different friends and allies that he was still out there, yes... But until now it seemed as if the other CBI Agents did not exist for him. Why this spectacular change now? Why didn´t he get in contact with Patrick again, why did he choose her? Her heart was pounding so hard that she could feel her body moving with the beat.

Should she really meet him? Meet Red John? The thought of it made her feel sick – or was it a sign of her pregnancy again? No, not this time. It was fear, anxiety, and astonishment, and… yes, fear. She was really worried.

Red John also knew that _someone_ was after Jane, and even _he_ did not like that. Patrick too said, that the assaults on her and Cho did not entirely look like Red John´s doing. And now RJ man turned directly to Lisbon to tell her the same? That he did not do it? Was that some tricky try of an excuse, or a really serious statement? Strange, very strange. She would only find out if she´d meet him. Alone… she´d be alone with Red John and talk to him. But if this was a trap? Should she call for assistance? This could be the most perfect chance to catch that devilish serial killer… Yes! This was the best chance ever. If it was not him personally that was there, at least he would send some close ally or friend – if this letter was really as serious as she thought that it was.

But nevertheless, catching Red John or someone who passed on his words, would mean that there would be also new investigations on Jane. It was like being in a vicious circle. If she´d catch him, it was proved that Patrick shot the wrong man, and that his whole trial and his "innocent" sentence based on a lie. She could not do that. The price was too high. And RJ _knew_ that she´d not call for assistance to catch him this evening. Otherwise he would never have made contact, never proposed that meeting. He knew how she felt, and he knew that she would risk a meeting, a date with him, only to protect Patrick.

Sighing, she had to admit, that it would be the best to follow the invitation.

:-:

»Wow! My meeting with Jane!« the thought shot through her head like lightning, she had to hurry, and left her home at a fast pace. Within the last half hour her life had become even more difficult. Maybe it was better not to tell him now, but he had the right to know.

To keep her from thinking, she turned on the radio, and let the music play loud – but even that did not help much. She had to smile, smile for her misfortune; or maybe it was destiny, yes, probably destiny, that there was a song on the radio, that seemed to fit the situation like no one else. Although the song made her thinking again, she kept listening to it, while she was watching Jane, who was waiting at the park entrance, and not aware that she was there. It was Marlon Roudette´s "Anti Hero". Not a very new song, but not very old either. There were certain lines that came so close to her feelings that she could not believe it. It was as if Jane spoke to her through this song. » _I am the first to recognize the virtue, in everything you are; in everything you try to be…_«Yes of course, he was. Sometimes he overrun her with his crazy ideas, but he always respected her. The song carried on, and also the refrain fitted him. He was her anti-hero, he could be such a pain in the neck sometimes, he had blown a lot of chances, and yes, he could have known love… But... »_You were the first to, recognize and refer to, everything I am; not just who I'm trying to be._« She was probably, no – most likely – the only person he really trusted, and she would never underestimate him, never. How intense the feelings could be if the moment was right… She smiled and blinked a tear away. Still listening to the nice song, the refrain again, she took a few deep breaths. It was now or never, why do I hesitate? She had to talk to him.

»_You decide if I´m the one._« the song ended. _Yes. I decide_.

She opened the door and went to him, waving. »Good morning.« she said. Looking at him now, from close by, made her clear that he had not taken any rest, he still was outworn and looked extremely tired. »You look awful. You should get some sleep.«

»Good morning.« he replied, ignoring her reproach, and smiled weakly.

They started to walk. »Patrick, I am sorry that I did not listen to you. I can see that you still are concerned about what happened to me. I can´t hush it up, or distract you. You will always care for me, am I right? Even more now, after Cho was attacked.«

He sighed, that proved her more than thousand words that she´s been right. Then he explained: »I´ve read through all files we have about Red John, even tried to get the FBI ones. I found no evidence that he ever did something like that before. So either it was not him – what I tend to believe; or he changed his mind so much – to… whatever. Maybe he gets joy now by watching people who he let live by his mercy, but… no, it is not his style. Nevertheless I also can´t see any reason why any impostor should attack us; you, and Cho... If there was a person who wants to be like Red John, why turns this person exactly on _CBI Agents_, that are close to me, and not on an innocent victim?«

Oh, if he knew how much the ideas he had fitted the letter, that she got from Red John this morning! But if she´d tell him about that, he´d probably freak out. But she must go to this meeting, to listen to Red John´s version of the things… he seemed to think a lot like Jane… »Ah, what?« she asked, being suddenly aware that he´d been asking her something.

He repeated: »This little nice-talking was not the real reason why you wanted to meet me. There´s something else. Right?«

»You are right.« suddenly it seemed to be easier to tell him that, than to talk about the strange letter and Red John. »Could we sit down here, at the bench, for a moment?«

»Yes?« his answer was a little bit uneasy, as if he expected something awful.

Now it was not the time to hesitate; this was the chance to get at least one of the problems closer to be solved. »I was at my house doctor for some sleeping pills, cause all that stress in work, but he refused the prescription. The reason is… I am pregnant. The specialist confirmed it yesterday. I was really surprised about that, and for a while I thought of another way, but then, after I had some time to think, I decided that I want that child.«

»Wow, congratulations!« he smiled, and hugged her short and soft, as if he was suddenly afraid to hurt her, then he sat back next to her, and said, with cheery voice: »I am so happy for you! Walter will be surprised, I assume. Have you told him yet? What did he say? I don´t remember if he has any children out of his prior relationships.«

»Walter?«

He nodded, still smiling: »Yes, Walter Mashburn. Your billionaire friend.«

»It´s not Mashburn´s; Patrick!« She was irritated, close to be stunned. »If it was, I wouldn´t sit here; talking to _you_.« How could he be so slow on the uptake? But… _Hey!_… one part of her brain yelped. It was as if a blinking, seducing "Exit" sign was clearly there.

He shrugged his shoulders: »Oh, sorry. I just thought you wanted some advice, how to tell him, never mind my words. Is it some new guy? Have I ever met him before, or is he a stranger, some new neighbor maybe? Or is he working at the CBI?«

She smiled, _no lies needed_, but a little bit carefulness. If she´d regret it somehow later, at least he could _not_ call her a liar. He was totally off the rails. So she answered: »Um, yes, I would say that you have met him before; and he´s working at the CBI.«

»Any names?« He asked curiously. »Or do you want to surprise him, on Monday, maybe, or on another occasion? Tell me, Lisbon, I won´t spoil you anything, promise…« He seemed to think about it for a while. »But…_hm_… keep your secret, if you like. I will know when someone really freaks out for joy in the CBI.« he smiled. »And here is my advice: If I was in the father´s place, I would prefer you to be honest. I´d wish you to tell me; as early as possible, probably at a nice dinner, or a relaxing breakfast, maybe on a peaceful walk through the park or something.« he laughed, and looked so happy like seldom before. »So you´ll be a mum, I can´t believe it. Our Lisbon, deciding to get a child! How will the unit survive without you? It will be a totally different CBI. But you come back after that, will you? And you promise to show me photos, ok?«

She nodded and smiled: »Jane, stop it, yeah? You will see me almost every day until I have to go to maternity. And as far as I can tell you now… I of course plan to come back.«

He leaned back in the sunlight and stretched his feet: »It´s still unbelievable.« He took a deep breath, and decided: »We have to find the person who´s after us, as fast as possible. I don´t want you to be in danger anymore.«

»Of course.« Lisbon answered. »I don´t want _you_ to be in danger either.«

After a few seconds of silence, they decided to go back to the happy feelings: »You like some ice-cream or a frozen yoghurt?« Teresa asked. »I am starving… my breakfast was really small and… well, my stomach did not quite like it. I could need some sugar now.«

He agreed: »Yeah, ice would be fine… but then I think I really have to go home for a while. Your wonderful story distracted my focus, and I recognize for the first time how tired I really am… Maybe it would be the best to stop staring into the files for a while and look at them, once I am refreshed.«

»Agreed.« Lisbon answered, and they went for the ice cream shop.

_Dusk_. The time had come. It was not easy, but maybe the only way to protect Patrick; so Teresa dressed up to meet with the man who was most likely Red John. What would he look like? Would he try to do threaten her? Was it right to go there alone? Maybe this was the only possibility get him. But what, if a talk to him was the only chance to get Jane out of this.

She was at the "Experience" Restaurant at eight p.m. sharp; and was not surprised. The whole restaurant´s front was blackened with thick garments and everything inside was pitch black; even the entrance area was shed by a curtain and a special door that let no ray of light in. This restaurant was known for it´s unconventional events. Every month they changed the main theme in their restaurant; this month it was "Dinner in the Dark". People were chattering, the restaurant was well visited; but no one could see his or her opposite.

»Can I help you?« a waiter asked.

»Yes. I am searching for Mister Jon Herd. He invited me for dinner.«

She could see a very small lamp, which was only the one-diode key light of the waiter, but he seemed to look inside his book. »Oh, yes, he is already here. Would you follow me please, the little white light will lead your way.« A few moments later she was at a table, and the waiter showed her the chair, but in the very little light amount there was no chance to see the face or even the outline of the man that was waiting for her.

»Agent Lisbon, I am glad that you came.« the voice of a man said.

»I could not resist, Jon. But I could have expected somehow, that you would manage somehow, that I don´t see you. A clever trick that you chose this restaurant.«

»Never mind, Teresa, we are not here to see each other, but to talk; and to have something to eat, if you like.« his voice was calm and friendly.

»Right.« she answered. »But how can I be sure that you are the one, you claim to be?«

Jon Herd laughed shortly, then he said: »Well, let´s try this. When I found Jared Renfrew, in Tijuana; I left him and the bitch in the bath-tub. He pretended to be dead to distract me, but while I was arranging my sign on the wall, he also wrote something with his own blood; the words "He is Mar". You remember that? I did not delete them, because it was an interesting puzzle piece, that you haven´t solved until today.«

»Yes. I remember.« she said with a stern voice. »Are you proud that you tortured and killed so many people?«

»Hm… I don´t think that you´d understand, even if I try to explain it. But we are not here to discuss my doings, aren´t we? We are here to talk about the things I did _not_ do.«

This moment the waiter asked for the drink and first course, and held out a menu that was written with slightly gleaming letters. They both chose and the waiter went away.

Teresa picked up the talk again: »So you did not attack me?«

»No, I swear it. I was not with you and I did not break into Agent Cho´s house. But really…« he laughed sarcastically. »You could have guessed that I did not do this, if you think about it. It is not my style to let somebody live, if I pay them my regards. I make exceptions, of course, if I want, but most times I finish my work.« he paused. »We both know that this has something to do with our good friend Patrick.«

Lisbon sighed: »I fear so. But what do you want from me now? You hate him, why don´t you sit and watch what´s gonna happen to him?«

»Teresa, you are wrong. I do not hate him. I thought him a lesson, yes – he must not underestimate me. And he learned, oh, how he learned! He´s a really interesting opponent; this game is much too fascinating to let it be ruined by someone else. Besides, I do not like it if someone discredits my work.« Jon Herd paused, because the waiter came closer to bring the drinks and the soup, and was waiting for the main course order.

»I don´t think that I want something to eat.« Lisbon said. »The soup is enough.«

Jon Herd insisted: »Sorry to be bossy, Teresa, but you should eat something, that´s better for you. Believe me.« He turned to the waiter: »I get the steak, with fried potatoes; and for the charming Lady … the lemon chicken and rice, with some steamed vegetables?«

She agreed: »Ok. That sounds good.« and turned to her opposite: »Thank you for the choice.« _I really talk to Red John on friendly terms. What a strange world_.

When they were alone again, Jon asked: »Would you tell me what you already know about the people who did this to you?«

Lisbon answered: »Not much. You seem to know already almost all. I had not time to talk to Jane about that lately, because we were so consumed by this other case… a man was tortured and murdered brutally, another one so much tortured and humiliated that he´ll never be happy again. Also his wife was in the hands of the persons who did this… sorry, I should not talk about that. This is an ongoing investigation.«

The man replied: »Never mind, I won´t talk. These persons, are they strangers to you, just like a case, or are they linked somehow with you or the CBI?«

Her voice was cautious: »Why do you ask? What do you know? I mean, do you really want to have investigation details from me?«

»Yes. Talk. That´s why I am here. I need more information to hold on.«

She took a deep breath: »They are linked to the CBI, and to us; to my team and to another team, and also the witness protection program, and to a man called Levine. But there is no real proof that he´s behind the murder and the torture. But Levine is also linked to my team. We turned him in, so that he finally got to court and got sentenced.«

Jon sounded, as if a shudder ran through his body, when he answered: »_Lazar_ Levine? God, I´ve heard from him; and what he can deliver or sell, if one wants it. A disgusting person. I know that he´s behind bars. But it is new to me that you and your team brought him there. But as I can assume, the two tortured persons were the main witnesses in his trial. Right? _Hm_. A strong relation, yes… I can also say that Patrick had a lot of fun with Mr. Levine, and that this man did not like that?«

»Yes, Jane really played his tricks on Levine. Do you want to tell me…«

Jon giggled: »You are quite quick in understanding, Teresa. Yeah. I want to pose the question, that all your happenings might be linked.«

»_Linked_?« Lisbon was breathless. »But who should… _oh no_, you don´t believe that…«

»I am afraid, I do. What if Mr. Levine, who´s up to get the death sentence for all his doing, is up for revenge before he dies? He somehow ordered to kill and torture the men who spoke against him, and he´s attacking your team. But he´s not up to kill you; apparently… nevertheless he affected you. He hurt you deeply with the attack on you. Am I right? He really hit you and Jane, because you know, Teresa, you _know_, that you are only alive because of his mercy. And the attack on Agent Cho and his girlfriend? It was not meant to kill them either, but to scare them. Otherwise they won´t be alive.«

She nodded, and she was sure he noticed her head movement, even without seeing her: »And how could someone threaten Jane the most, if not with you?« she said. »I mean, that´s tricky, that´s a really good plan. They _must_ know that you are officially dead. They knew that I would keep silent and suffer, instead of turning him in. They were trying to wear me down, also with the attack on Cho. And they knew, if anyone found out that you are possibly the attacker, Jane´s own court case would be reopened.«

»That´s a good summary.« Jon said. »And, what comes next, if the case about Jane shooting me is reopened, Patrick might end up in jail again, for detention, or to prevent him from leaving the county... If they prove that he lied to the jury and all, he´s surely behind bars again. No one can do anything against that. And where would they put him? He´s citizen of Sacramento County, he´ll be…«

Teresa startled in shock: »He´ll be in the Sacramento County Jail, with Levine. Oh crap. That´s what he´s waiting for! To get Jane in his direct reach.« She jumped to her feet. »I have to tell him immediately.«

Jon insisted: »Calm down, don´t act too hasty. I promise I will try everything I can, so that Jane is not coming into Levine´s reach. Call it a favor, or call it just some… _affection_ to our little Jane-John game, that we´re playing… I will help you. The safest way to stop Levine´s actions is to prove that he´s behind all this, that he really is able to give his orders out of jail. If we can prove that some way, he´s guilty in one more murder and in two very cruel acts of torture; in addition to that guilty for the attack on at least two CBI Agents. That would bring him into a Highest Security Jail somewhere, and his process of parole will be done forever. You are rid of him, and I have got the persons who tried to copy me.«

»You want me to _trust_ you?« she could not believe it.

He smiled: »Well, maybe not trust me… "trust" is such a strong word. But don´t _betray_ me. You know what I am capable of. Please do not misunderstand me now! I am not trying to intimidate you. But you _know_ what I could do. You can take my hand or leave it, but I can´t predict what´ll come out in the end if we both try on our own. I will carry on the attempt to find the men who want to be my fare-dodgers, and when I find them, I´ll kill them, and let everybody know who did it. That´s who I am. I can´t change.«

Lisbon growled: »You are cruel, you know? But you also cannot get forward all alone, I assume, otherwise you wouldn´t have asked for this meeting. You did not know about Levine and his possible connection. Only my words brought you closer to the impostors, that try to discredit your work – as you call it.«

»Right, Teresa, right. And therefore I owe you one. So I repeat my offer. Take my hand, give me your word that you won´t betray me; and you got a friend in me – as you might never had one before. I promise.«

She still hesitated. It was like a pact with the devil, but for Jane´s sake? Would he do it for her? Of course, without any regret. She would accept that deal, and in the end it helped not only Patrick; it was for all her team members, to protect them and… also for herself. Red John was a man like maybe no one else, with capacities that she could hardly imagine now.

Taking a deep breath she reached out and tried to find his hand in the dark, finally they met, and she took his hand. He had soft skin and fine fingers, and his touch was firm, but still gentle. »I agree, Mr. Herd. But if we are over with this – we are on other terms again.«

»I´ve not expected anything else.« he replied. »So I also agree, Teresa.«

There was a short period of silence in which the other food came; the waiter was a little bit sour that neither of them had touched the soup yet, but for an excuse they said that they had been talking so much that they hardly noticed the food. So the waiter left everything on the table, and… to Teresa´s surprise, she really had the calmness to eat, first a little bit of the lukewarm soup, and then the really delicious Lemon Chicken.

Jon Herd ensured her: »It is good that you eat, Teresa. Your skin felt really cold, I assume you had not much time for you own in the last weeks. But this case is going to get really bad, I fear. You´ll need your strength.«

»You talk as if you knew that I am overtired and…«

This moment her phone rang out disturbed from the noise, several other guests growled and asked for silence. Hastily she tried so switch it off; but when she saw that Rigsby was in the line, she felt a cold shiver run through her body. Not Rigsby, not on a Saturday evening, nine p.m. This was not good.

She rose from her seat, holding the still vibrating cell phone to her ear, and followed little, self gleaming markings to the toilet. »Rigs?« she asked immediately, when the door was closed behind her. »What happened?«

»Calling the team…« he answered, his voice was agitated and stressed. »We need to come to Agent Mallory´s house immediately. She´s… I don´t know why Senior Agent Price called me first, maybe just by chance… Agent Christine Mallory has been attacked, boss, she´s dead… and also her teammate Agent Ramirez…« He gasped for breath.

»We think she managed to call someone ere the blood loss tore her down, maybe… ah, we just don´t know, it´s too early… but what they say it is Red John. Boss, he is _not_ dead! He went after them with his usual brutality. He´s not dead, boss, the FBI is right. Jane lied, that vicious killer is still alive! And this faces on the wall, painted with their blood…one for each of them, the locals say. We have to be there as fast as possible!«

Lisbon searched for support at the wall of the bathroom and leant against it, her feet were not strong enough to carry her. »The police is informed now?«

Rigsby answered: »Yes, of course. Some neighbor passed by the house while going on a walk with her dog and saw the blood on the window. She called the police and of course they guard the crime scene now. Agent Price was informed because they were in his unit and we… of course we were informed because we are the Red John investigators. And I think also the FBI knows. They need us at the crime scene. Address is…«

He gave her the address and then Teresa answered him: »We meet there as soon as possible. I try to round up the team, would you please ask Agent Price whether he needs any assistance? I am sure that they are all in shock.«

»Yes, boss.« he said, and disconnected the call.

There was a soft knock on the restroom door: »Agent Lisbon, are you fine?« Red John alias Jon Herd asked. »What happened?«

She replied: »I have to leave, two people of another team that we were working with were attacked, and they left your mark on the wall. Please step back if you don´t want that the light in here falls on your face.«

»Teresa, I don´t mind you seeing my face. I got your promise. But maybe it is better if we do not reveal my identity right now – it is not important. But may I ask you to send me the photos of the crime scene, I´d like to look at them.«

She hesitated for a moment: »Yes, I will. I need a safe e-mail-address where to send them. If you wish, I send you an additional photo…«

»Of the wall painting in Agent Cho´s house?« he replied. »If it is possible, then yes. It would be interesting. Here is a the e-mail you wanted, and a phone number, if you ever want to call me. It might be necessary.« A small piece of card paper, was pushed through the small gap below the door. »Don´t expect to find any fingerprints.« Red John informed her, with a friendly intonation. »I will go back to our table now. You´re invited on my expense. Hurry up so that you get there soon.«

»I will. So step back, please.«

»One moment more, Teresa.« he told her. »I really want to help you to get those people who abuse my signature – but you can be sure, if everything is going the right way and you do not betray or disturb me in my revenge, no one will ever know that I laid hand on them. I hate it if someone tries to copy my work – and they did it again now, that´s even worse for them. But at least you now know, without any doubt, that I am _not_ behind this.«

»Yes, I know. But don´t expect that I am happy about that.«

»I don´t expect you to be.« he replied, his voice full of understanding. »Good bye.« There were steps leaving in front of the door.

Lisbon gave him a few seconds to get away, then she also opened the door and called for a waiter who helped her to find the exit immediately. She was kind of shocked by the great amount of light that was outside; although it was already dark. She took out her phone again and dialed the numbers of Cho, Van Pelt, and at last Jane. They promised to be at Agent Mallory´s house as soon as possible.

:-:

When Lisbon arrived at Agent Mallory´s house which was in a nice, quiet area, she could see the flashlights of the police cars from far away, and the area was clearly outlined. They allowed no one to pass by the house, all cars had to turn round and drive back. Cars were only allowed to stop if they were police or other law enforcement, even the press was held off, but there were already three press-vans waiting for the first interviews. Teresa was lucky, the policemen let her through and she could park the car right in front of the house.

There she could see that Van Pelt and Jane had already arrived. While Grace was talking to the policemen who had been the first at the crime scene, Jane was looking at the bloody dots and splashes on the window, that were clearly visible from the outside. She hurried closer and when the younger, red haired Agent saw her boss coming, she turned immediately at her.

Van Pelt said at first: »Cho´s gone to the Headquarter to pick up our crime scene pack, cause none of us has any rubber gloves or shoe protectors with them, not even a single plastic bag. Sorry for that, boss, I was out and left my equipment at home. Rigsby has been here before, but he went over to the witness that called the police now, to listen to her story, as long as it is still fresh in her mind.«

»That´s good.« Lisbon answered. »A good idea. So he´s the first Agent of the CBI that is talking to her. Her memories are still fresh – I call him later.«

Jane was also next to them now: »Lisbon, would you please come with me for a moment? I must show you something, right here from the outside.«

»Of course.« She followed him to the blood-stained window, and also Van Pelt joined them. »I am here… and oh!« Teresa continued. »I see what you mean.« She sighed. »The murderer was really eager that his doing would be revealed as soon as possible. The blood on the window is not there by chance.«

Jane nodded: »Yes, that´s it. You see the curtains, right behind to that really awful gash of blood? They are perfectly clean, the blood was painted on the glass by hand and with care, and I do not think that the small lamp that enlightens the white curtain behind the blood like a screen, is there by chance. This time the murderer wanted to show the public, that he was there.«

They went in the house, only the three of them, but they were sure that Cho and Rigsby would be there within a few minutes. At first they saw Agent Ramirez body, in the living room, next to the couch, and the head of the small reading lamp was turned in a way so that it sent his light right at the window on which they could see the blood from the outside. At the opposite wall the well known smiley face stared back at them with evil eyes, and the traces of the attack could still be seen everywhere. There was so much blood… they went upstairs now for a short look, and saw Agent Mallory, who was next to the bed. Blood was everywhere, but the biggest amount of course right next to her. The land line telephone next to the bed was covered with bloody dots and fingerprints, and there was the constant beeping of a disconnected line in the room; because the emergency center had stopped the call, but Agent Mallory hadn´t put back the receiver.

Jane stared at the face on the wall behind the bed, and his face showed revolt and disgust, but not complete shock. Lisbon joined Van Pelt for a search around the room, but always kept an eye on Patrick. Everything looked like as if it had been the work of that serial killer. The policemen outside all talked about the re-appearance of Red John and what this could mean. RJ attacking again, RJ breaking into the house of a CBI Agent… Red John alive?

But Jane _did_ know the truth. He knew almost instinctively that it was not Red John´s doing, and if one watched him closely, one could see it in his eyes. It was a gruesome attack, shocking for all of them, but it was done by an unknown person.

»Boss? Van Pelt? Jane?« Cho´s voice interrupted them: »I´ve brought the basic equipment, and the forensics unit have come with me too. They started downstairs.« He tried to stay calm, but the look he shared with Jane and Lisbon explained it all. He and Summer had really been lucky, that they were not at home. »So Red John _is_ back?« he said.

Jane shook his head: »No.« He cleared his throat. »This is not the work of Red John, I am sure. It must have been some impostor – but a good one. You must know him very well to see the difference. Red John likes to put an aura of show, of perfect arrangement, of some style in his doings. This here… is an expression of dumb violence and the abuse of a razor blade. The faces are both wrong; maybe they do not know better, or they _want_ me to know now that it is not truly RJ.«

Cho asked: »How do you mean that? Letting only _you_ know that it´s a fake?«

»If those impostors try to convince everybody else that Red John is not dead, they will be successful. But they include one little "mistake" every time, so that a real RJ expert knows that it was not him – but not those who are eager to investigate against him, won´t notice.«

Lisbon requested again: »So one is after you, and wants you to know that?«

»I slowly start to believe that. But I think that this someone is after us all.«

Jane nodded: »Yes, but it will be hard to explain it. We should go and join Rigsby with the questioning, let´s find out what the civilian witness might tell the media, if they pay her enough money. Let the forensics work on this, and tell them _clearly_ that they are not investigating a Red John attack.«

»Will do.« Cho said immediately and went downstairs to pass the instructions on to the forensics team. Flashes of a photo camera interrupted the light level in the house, when they all left.

Lisbon said: »After we´ve talked to the witness, we are to stay here to for support of Agent Price and his remaining team members. They´ll all be in shock of course… like we are.« They found Rigsby three houses down the road and went in immediately. The witness repeated her story in short words again. At least she seemed to be trustworthy; she only told them what she´d really seen; and did not try to make her story more interesting or sellable by adding some fictional details. She never mentioned Red John, although she must have already heard the rumors that were circling the area like birds of prey.

»But that means nothing, I fear.« Lisbon said in a quiet moment to Jane. »She´s only a person who passed by and saw the sign that the murderers left. If it had been not her, it would have been the postman in the morning, or some jogger, maybe the paper boy. One can´t oversee the blood in the window. And now all the police knows that Red John is back. Patrick, I am afraid that there will be lots of questions coming.«

He nodded: »Yes, I also expect that. But I can deal with it. We must put our focus on the person who really is behind this. We´ve got two _deaths_ now… it can´t get any worse. I am pretty sure that they won´t make a step back again. They will kill the next one that they are after too… we have to stop them! We have to find the missing link.«

Rigsby asked: »Um, excuse me, but somehow I have the impression that you share a secret… I am sorry, I mean… wouldn´t it be time to tell us the truth now? Cho says that this was not Red John, the policemen say that it was Red John, Grace is confused, and I am too. There´s more to this than the attack on Agent Price´s team members, right?«

»Yes, right.« Lisbon confirmed. »And I promise that we´ll talk as soon as possible, when we are alone, only the five of us. But now we really have to support Agent Price. We must hold together in these difficult times. You understand that, Rigs?«

»I do.« he replied. »But I do not like it.«

Cho added: »No one likes it. You´ll understand it soon.«


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Hit and run

It was so "late" in the early morning, that the hands of the clock on the wall seemed to stand still, or even move backwards. They all had returned to the CBI, and sat together in the big bureau, trying to cope with the shock and the grief of the loss of their two comrades. Senior Agent Price was almost completely down, he had had the difficult task to explain the deaths of his team members to their families and friends; he had been on the phone almost constantly since they arrived here. Agent Hollyman, his only remaining team member, helped Lisbon and her team to check upon the first photos and samples of fingerprints and hairs, that the forensics unit had found in the house. Most of them were of Agent Mallory of course, some of Agent Ramirez. Rigsby had found out that Ramirez had been called at this cell phone from the land line number of Agent Mallory – and therefore he had been at her house. They could not say what the caller told Ramirez, but the storyline fitted the pathologist´s first report. Agent Mallory was killed first, about the quarter of an hour before Agent Ramirez. He must have been hurrying to her place, maybe she called him in her fear, or they called, or something – and stepped directly in their trap.

There were no fingerprints and no sign of the murder weapon anywhere, but it must have been a razor blade or a scalpel; a very sharp edged object. That would of course fit the Red John theory, but Lisbon knew better. She always tried to keep his name off all conversations, but now and then someone talked about RJ nevertheless, and whenever they did, Teresa knew instinctively that her team members were only waiting for some time alone to get the promised explanation.

But there was no time, not in these dark hours. Everyone wanted to work as fast and accurate as possible, to clear the murders; so that the families could have their beloved ones back for grief and funeral. So the Sunday morning began with exhausting work, even though two spare Agents from Agent Donnalys weekend-shift-team joined them.

»Teresa.« Jane caught up with her while she was coming back from the Ladies room. Right now that sickness was annoying; she hated it not to be perfectly well. »Wait. We´ve worked through all the evidence now, would you please take a rest for a while? Please.«

She looked back at him and explained: »Not right now, I am feeling better... we´re awaiting the results of the ten fingerprints that we could not definitely verify in the next hour. We already know that Agent Mallory had a house keeper and that her sister had been on a visit a few days ago – so maybe the fingerprints belong to them. We need to call the house keeper in to take her fingerprints to compare them; and the local police of the hometown of Mallory´s sister shall take the samples of her and send it…«

Jane smiled: »I know, Teresa, I know, but… you must take care – not only for yourself, but also for someone else now. Don´t forget that.« He pointed to the others with a move of his head. »The kids are all grown up, they know what to do. Do me the favor, only fifteen minutes. I´ll make you some tea.«

»Another Jane special mix?« she asked, smiling. »Ok, I´ll take a short break, for goodness sake, but that´s it then, Patrick, you don´t have to worry about me.«

»I´ll always take care for you two.« he answered, and smiled.

For a second Lisbon had the impression that he already knew everything, but he gave her no chance to prove it, but shoved her in her own bureau, pointed to the couch and was out of the door to make his special tea.

When he returned to the bureau, he found her fast asleep, coiled up in one edge of the couch. With a gentle move he put his suit jacket on her body and left the tea behind, ere he went out again and closed the door from the outside.

»That´s good.« Cho said, when Jane returned in the big bureau. »Let her sleep for a while. She´s also been through a lot.«

»Yes, she has.« Jane answered. »And maybe more than we know.«

Unfortunately, Lisbon had not a long time to rest, because only fifteen minutes later the Hispanic house keeper of Mallory was in the CBI. The older woman had a very loud voice and although Agent Hollyman and Agent Price took charge of her, the quietness was gone. Of course the woman let them take her fingerprints and unfortunately they matched six of the ten unidentified fingerprints; the other four were from Mallory´s sister. So there still was no evidence to use, it was a perfect professional job again. After that bad news Lisbon, Rigsby, Cho, Van Pelt and Agent Hollyman decided to go back to the crime scene to interview the neighborhood, if maybe one of them had seen a strange car or heard anything; but as almost expected, no one of them could remember a visitor or anything else, that was unusual – but this was not a thing to wonder about. None of the people ever thought or dreamed of that anything like that could happen in their quiet neighborhood; so they simply did not cast a closer look at the surroundings. They all were shocked and felt sorry but could not really help; on the contrary, they started to feel annoyed because of the many questionings and the mass of reporters that were outside and tried to get an interview. Without any results they came back to the CBI, exhausted, and found the building almost full of people, although it was still Sunday close to noon.

:-:

The death strike to all hopes came with the midday news, with the best TV-time around the middle of the day. There were breaking news telling the public that Red John had reappeared; and that a special report about that serial killer would be in the afternoon show of Caren Cross. They all knew the Talk show-master Caren Cross, she used to be a real pain in the neck a lot of times before, and now she was the one who was up to "reveal that Red John is still alive and out there".

It couldn´t be worse, and although Teresa and Patrick had been working hard to prove that this was a fake Red John attack, even the other CBI Agents began to speculate now about the possibility that RJ was still alive. There was doubt in their faces, and whenever they cast a look on Jane it was obvious that they were not sure what to think now.

»If we try to beg Cross not to send her show, it will be a even bigger fault.« Cho said, in the middle of the discussion.

Jane was his opinion: »I think so too… she would turn that against us, tell her viewers that we tried to interfere the freedom of the media or something. We´ll have to look at the show and see.« Even he, who most times was very certain in everything he did, had doubts now. The public knew, exactly that happened, what they all feared, and the chit-chat and the rumor were there – they could not stop it. It may become an avalanche.

:-:

It was an avalanche. Everyone in the CBI seemed to watch the show where some "want-to-be-experts" tried to prove and explain that Red John was alive and now out for big revenge. Everyone was sure that he only killed the CBI Agents to show the police that he could come on anyone he liked, and that he was still a great danger. Even the pathologist who worked on the examination of the two Agents seemed to be affected by that show and tried to find existing parallels to the Red John murders, he ordered the reports of the old Red John cases to compare it with the results of those two victims, therefore he needed much longer for his final report than he usually would have. It would be a lot of work to look through the results without seeing too much of the subjective input of Red John theories.

Agent Van Pelt sighed deeply, when she had received the call: »It´s been the pathologist. He´s ready with his examination now. I´ll go and get them from the coroner´s office. I´ll be back in half an hour, if I walk I can take the side streets. I´ll be faster.«

Fortunately the Sacramento coroner´s office was not far away from the CBI Headquarter, Van Pelt could be there by foot within ten or at least fifteen minutes. Although the reason for the walk was not a likeable one; it would be a relief for her to get out of the Headquarter for a while.

Price proposed: »Maybe we can get through this until tomorrow, so that we can give our reports to Wainwright and Bertram, and that the bodies of our poor friends can be taken home. We do not need to keep them in the police-morgue. They… should be with their…«

Grace understood: »I´ll hurry.« She went out of the building and crossed the street, slightly wondering that the sun had already disappeared behind the horizon. It was still dusk, good light, but the day had passed so fast that it was unbelievable.

»That's one of them.« the man on the bench said to his comrade. »The red haired Agent from Lisbon´s team. Boss said; kill everyone we see now. He´s annoyed.«

The other one turned round and looked at the target person through a sniper´s rifle telescope. »Yes, seems so. The boss was right; they will all cuddle up in the CBI Headquarter after this attack. Let´s go, get her, while we have her still in sight.« He took out a cell-phone and called someone with the push on only one button: »Mister D, it is Butcher speaking. We´ll get that Agent Van Pelt within the next minutes.«

»Ok, good. I expect your recall after the job is done. Then you´ll get you money.« with those few words the conversation was ended and the man left the bench.

They both were so calm and relaxed that nobody around recognized what they were up to. The men never ran, they only walked, followed the steps of Agent Van Pelt with medium speed, only from time to time they approached her a little bit more; only a tiny bit, so that they would be able to end the pursuit whenever needed; and disappear unseen and unnoticed. They were good in their job; they had to be, because at this time of the day there were still lots of people on the street. If they were really good they would need only one second, each one of them only one move. One man would be passing by her right side, the other one left. The man at her left side would aim with his knife for the place between her fifth and sixth rib, a stab slightly upwards, a turn, and back out; the other one on her right side prepared to hit her in the small triangle between neck, shoulder blade and collarbone; the main shoulder artery. She´d have no chance. The first possibility was to attack her in a crowd of people, maybe while crossing a street at green light, strike, and then vanish into the mass of people while she died there – or else, to hit her when they were alone on a corner, where they could push her into a small, dark side street. She´ll bleed out ere the paramedics would be there.

The men were prepared for both situations and to their pleasure situation number two seemed to be coming soon. The red haired Agent left the main street to go to the Coroners building of Sacramento, where they had the pathology and the morgue; and not so many people followed her down that street. Now they approached faster, tried to catch her at the next corner. And now they were almost running at her.

Grace Van Pelt was not unaware. She had a strange feeling from the moment on when she left the main street. Only for her own safety she loosened the fixing strap that hold the gun in the holster, so that she could pull it out a lot faster, and she also took her small pepper spray can out of the belt pocket in her hand. There were steps behind her and she turned round exactly that moment, when the two men had their long knives out and were ready to stab. They were surprised, really surprised, and that was a big deal for professionals like them. The first blow, that usually was deadly, went into "cold air" they only cut slits into her suit jacket. In the next moment one of them had his eyes full of pepper spray; but he was trained enough not to scream – that would have drawn attention on the little scene and his partner still had the chance to kill that CBI-beast.

Van Pelt blocked the next attempt to stab her with her arm, and she felt her bones hurt because of the mighty blow, second to that she was not fast enough in retreat so the blade cut through the garment on her arm and the knifes tip slightly scratched her skin. That was not very bad, and it did not hurt much, but the man with the pepper spray in his eyes still had enough strength and vision left to kick her hard at the shinbone, what made her instable in standing – this was useful for his comrade, he rose the knife again… this assault needed much more time than they wanted to! It should have been over since a lot of time, they must end it now or they might be discovered.

The knife was aimed on her throat now, the carotid artery, also a good place…

That second a golden-brown car changed direction with screeching tires, jumped over the edge of the sidewalk with a hard bump, and steered directly on the three of them. The man with the knife was hit in the back with full speed; his body was thrown forwards and collided with Van Pelt, and his other comrade. The CBI Agent was completely shielded from the snout of the car by of the body of the villain, but the force of the hit threw her down nevertheless, her head was swaying and the sight was blacked out on seventy percent of her view by something that was close by and very heavy. She was almost completely buried under the body of the knife-man who did not move anymore, and could only see with half an eye what happened next. A man left the car. He wore common black shoes and jeans; and went to the deeply astonished other man, who still had the pepper spray in his eyes. This villain tried to get himself up from the floor, but did not come far. The strange driver crouched down next to him and asked him something at very low voice; and what he asked, seemed to be really serious; because the other man was white in the face and completely in shock. He nodded once, nodded a second time, but then shook his head and whispered with panicked and stuttering voice: »No, no, never.«

That seemed to be all that the strange car-driver wanted to know. With a merciless move he took hold of the head of his opponent and cracked his neck. The victim went down straight forward, without any resistance. He was dead, that was sure.

»Hey, stop!« Grace cried out and reached out for her gun, but her arm was jammed between the street floor and the man that was still on top of her. With all her strength she was able to get her gun out, but the target was gone, without haste, as it seemed, without any fear that she might try to shoot to hold him back.

The car´s engine roared and then it went off backwards, she tried to get out under the weight of the man that was lying on her, to see the license plate, but there was no chance, the car was gone as fast as it approached. It must have all been over in a few seconds, surely not half a minute. And that second a woman at the sidewalk was screaming, of course the accident had not been unnoticed.

Grace still wanted to get rid of the man, at the same time she tried to find out if he was still alive – but he was almost dead, unable to move, and his back was most likely broken. She hardly noticed that her own left arm also seemed to be broken, but not by the hit from the car, this had happened earlier, when she had blocked the oncoming knife. Whoever had been the driver of that car, he surely had not tried to kill or hurt _her_; his target was the man with the knife in his hand, and maybe; most likely; this strange car accident saved her live. From the far she could hear the sirens of the police and paramedics, but there was a similar noise much nearer; it was the phone of the man who´s neck had been broken. She longed for the pocket in which the cellular was ringing, and looked at the screen for a second. There was a big "D", not a full name and no picture, but still…

She answered the call, and before she could say any word, she was yelled at: »Why do you need so long, you fools?« the voice of a man screamed. »You want pay, do good work! This is crap! Understood? I´ve also got pleasures to fulfill.« Deep inside she had the impression that she had heard this voice before. The man disconnected the line.

Van Pelt put the stranger´s cell phone into her own pocket ere the police arrived, and then a whole bunch of spectators, and lights, and paramedics…

:-:

»How long do you need to understand that we won´t leave! We stay here until we can talk to our friend.« Jane was still discussing with the head night-shift-nurse of their floor. It was about half past eleven in the night. Cho was watching Patrick, who proved once more what a pain in the neck he could be if someone crossed his mind.

Rigsby and Lisbon also were there, on the uncomfortable seats in the visitor´s lounge; but they were in some kind of dozing state at the moment. Rigsby had tried to arrange his body on three of the plastic-and-aluminum chairs; Lisbon had only two and leant a little bit on the inner window-sill for support. Cho had also organized three of the chairs for him, but his back hurt so much when he lay down that he had chosen to stay awake. Jane was putting up a real good performance. Since nine in the evening he was constantly debating with the stern, old nurse, Mrs Cleaver. Once she had called a night-shift-doctor for assistance, but the matter that Patrick discussed did not interest the M.D., so the head nurse had the problem back, and Jane did not keep his mouth shut.

The old nurse growled, once again: »Mr. Jane, how often do I have to tell you that visitors are not allowed in the hospital after closing hours. And the end of the official visiting hours was at eight thirty. The surgeon admitted you an hour longer because your friend was still in treatment, but now you extended that beyond every border. If it was not for the noise level, I would call for assistance to remove you. I have enough! Leave now! She´s in good hands, you can go and return tomorrow. I promise you, I call the police!«

»We _are_ the police!« Jane insisted. Then he changed his tone again: »Mrs. Cleaver, it can´t be so difficult to organize at least one spare bed or a paramedic´s stretcher, or maybe a single mattress. It would be enough to get an examination bed from the ambulance offices downstairs. You could put it back ere they need it. Don´t you have a storage room for spare beds?« He was at least as outworn as the nurse, but had no intention to give in. »Can´t you see that we all are deeply worried about the fate of our friend? We could as well be patients for shock and insomnia treatment, as visitors. We can´t get any rest on these designer chairs, and lying on the floor seems to be a very bad choice. We would do, of course, but would you please give us at least _one_ bed for Miss Lisbon? She must rest, and it is not good for her to crouch on these terrible designer chairs because…« he started to whisper, and Cho did not hear the words, but they must have had some impact.

The nurse finally gave in: »Ok, Mr. Jane, but for goodness sake _be quiet_.« She took a pen and sat down next to her computer and turned off the screen saver. After a minute of clicking and looking she called someone from the night shift of the maintenance. »I can give you one examination bed.« she said. »But I need it back at half past seven in the morning, when the day shift arrives. The house keeper will bring it upstairs.«

»Thank you.« Patrick replied.

When the bed arrived, brought by a tired house keeper, the nurse quickly covered it with a fresh sheet, and took a spare cushion out of a wardrobe that was on the corridor and put four spare blankets next to it. »For you and your colleagues.« she said.

»Thanks a lot.« Jane said again and pushed the bed into the visitor´s room. Cho held the door open for him and took the three spare blankets aside.

»Lisbon?« Patrick called the woman. »I got a bed for you. You can´t find good rest on those chairs. Hop on it and good night.«

Teresa murmured: »Oh thank you… but only one. And you? And Cho? And Rigsby?«

»I´ll be ok.« Cho said. »The nurse gave us spare blankets; I can lay down on the floor – that's better for my back; I feel that I need some harder underground at the moment.«

Rigsby also answered: »I found a position on those chairs that is ok in a way. Thanks for the blanket, Jane.« He stretched. »How long can it be until she wakes up from the anesthetic? How late is it, by the way?«

Lisbon looked at her watch and protested: »Almost midnight. Jane… You fought until now for this bed, so use it. I´m fine here.«

Jane answered, stern and with an unmistakable look: »You need a good rest. If you don´t take the bed, I´ll give it back.«

»The nurse will kill you, if you try.« Cho joked. »First yes, then no…« He folded one of the blankets on the floor and sat down there, after he stretched his limbs. »Those chairs really make one sick.« he murmured. »Maybe that´s on purpose, so that they get more patients… I don´t understand how you could ever find a good lying position on them, Rigs.«

Grumbling, but nevertheless thankful Teresa changed her place and took the bed, Jane somehow tried to arrange him with the seat next to the window-sill.

Finally the night-shift nurse, who had been watching the scene, seemed to have found her good heart, and the house keeper returned not long later with three more, but this time small foldable spare beds. They were old and the springs squeaked, but the nurse arranged those beds with cushions and sheets too, and pushed them into the visitors lounge.

The sleep was like an immediate and deep blackout; for all of them. It was as if the self protection of the body shut them down completely. There were no bad dreams or visions and their rest must have been so deep that they noticed nothing any more.

:-:

It was Rigsby who was up first in the morning – it was bright sunshine in the visitors lounge; the window seemed to look eastwards. It was already half past eight in the morning; the night-shift-nurse had let them sleep although she had said that she would need the beds back. Wayne yawned and sat up to take a look around. His colleagues were still asleep, all except one. Van Pelt was also with them in the visitor´s room; she sat on a chair next to the door, silent but awake, with her left arm put in plaster. When she noticed Wayne´s moving, she looked at him and smiled weakly.

»You are all here.« she whispered. »You never left, since the evening?«

He shook his head and said: »How could we, Grace? You are our friend and if you need us, we´re right there. We won´t go away.«

Van Pelt sighed, decided to concentrate on the facts and asked: »The men that were on the street with me, they are both dead, right?«

»Yes, they are.« Rigsby answered. »But we do not know who they were. They had no Id and no phone with them, the only things were three different kinds of deadly weapons. Price tried to run them in the files, but he apparently has no match yet.«

»He would have called us.« Lisbon said, she also was awake now.

Grace said low at voice: »Sorry, boss, I never meant to wake you up.«

»Oh, it´s ok. It´s already late… and…« she cleared her throat. »I think we have enough to do.« She also sat up and put her feet on the floor. »How are you, Grace?«

»I am fine, the ulna of my left arm is broken and they had to stitch up a part of the cut, and there is a big bruise on my shinbone too. But I´ll survive.« she smiled. »I am all right. But… the things that happened keep me thinking since hours. For goodness sake I had the anesthetic during almost the whole night. But now…«

Cho said: »Tell us. We know nothing, except of some talk of witnesses. They said it was hit and run by a car, you and two other men were hit, while you were trying to cross the street, and that the driver left without looking back. The men died, one because of a broken neck but with a strange face irritation, the other one had severe inner bleedings. «

»Oh, I know that.« suddenly her voice and look went stern. »The men attacked me. They tried to stab me. I got one half-down with pepper spray, the other one still went on and broke my arm. The car driver kind of saved my life, I think. _No_, I am sure that he saved my life. He knocked the first one of them down with the car and then he got out and broke the neck of the other one, after he had asked him something. I could not stop him, sorry, boss… but I got the phone from one of them. A man named "D" called them… The phone must be with my garment, the policemen must have thought it was mine.«

The four others listened to her with increasing anxiety.

Then Rigsby said, with unusual hard words: »Boss, Jane, and maybe Cho… I know that there is much more behind this all. Would you please talk to us now?

An awkward silence followed. No one knew, how to start.

Jane spoke at first: »Yes. You are right. I think it is time for a talk.« Looking into Cho´s and Lisbon´s faces, it was clear that they knew what he meant, but Van Pelt and Rigsby were confused. Within a moment both of them got an even more uncomfortable feeling.

Grace asked: »Am I right, when I assume, that this won´t be a nice talk?«

»You are right.« Kimball confirmed.

Lisbon cast a long look at Jane, but he replied it with no signal or motion. So she decided: »Then I will start, because I was the first one.«

Cho wrinkled his brow: »The first? Earlier than _me_, you mean?«

»Yes.« she confirmed, and cleared her throat again. »When we had our free weekend… the weekend on which we found the man in the tree, I had a nightly visitor; maybe more than one; until now I do not know for sure. I was paralyzed with an electric stunning device, maybe also drugs. When I woke up…« she carried on with her story and the longer the others listened, the more they were surprised that she could cover up this so long. »Jane was not content with my decision from the beginning on.« she ended.

Grace asked: »Boss, that must be… awful. I can´t… imagine how you must feel.«

Jane explained: »She decided to tell no one, because she thought that it was Red John´s doing. If anyone is to blame, then I am. She wanted to protect me – if anyone got the impression, that he is still alive, they would know that I lied to the jury. But this is in vain now, now that the public chit-chats about it.«

Cho asked: »You lied to the jury? What does _that_ mean?«

»Red John is not dead. He is alive, and out there. But he did not do this. He did not attack Lisbon, he did not break into Cho´s house; he did not kill Mallory and Ramirez, and for certain he did not try to stab you on open street, Grace.«

Rigsby was totally confused: »_Not_ Red John? But… all the policemen said that it must be him, there was his sign on the wall! Everywhere! And what about that Cross interview in TV? All the experts… but you shot him, did you? Jane, are you serious?«

Now Cho started his story: »Let me explain, maybe it will be a little clearer then. I also was not sure that Red John visited my house.«

Van Pelt was surprised: »You too?«

»Yes. A few days ago. The night from Wednesday to Thursday, to be precise. We were at the CBI, working on our case; Summer was luckily not at my place. When we came home on Thursday morning we found the bed stained with blood and the face on the wall. We informed Jane and Lisbon. It was my choice not to bother the whole team. I also was the opinion that it would be better, if as less as possible people knew. But I did not know that our boss was also attacked, and that I was the second one. I thought that it maybe was some street gang´s doing; so Summer and I tried to talk with our contacts in the scene. But there was not enough time until now. You got to find your trusties, and that needs more time.« He sighed. »But if I was the second in a line… it is clear that we are the main target.«

That moment Rigsby cried out: »You could have warned us!« he jumped to his feet. »I thought we are friends. We should have known. How many times have we proved that we hold together? We could have be prepared! Grace!« he turned to the youngest team member. »What do you say? You also did not know. And now they also turned on you? What if that car driver would not have been there? You could be dead, or severely hurt.«

Van Pelt cleared her throat: »Wayne, I understand you. Of course I think that it could have helped maybe, if we knew that the team is under attack. But we don´t know who did this, and when or where they´ll strike again. If we had known it from the beginning… maybe nothing would have changed, but… ehm…« she hesitated. »I mean, maybe it would have been even worse. No one can say that now, but what could we do? Guard ourselves Twenty-four-Seven? That would drive us mad.«

Rigsby was still not calm: »We could have left town for a while!«

»But they found Teresa in her weekend refuge, where she was never before.« Jane remembered him. »I am sure they know perfectly well where we are and where we go. The most important fact is, that it was not Red John. They _use_ him for some purpose.«

Lisbon explained: »Over the last free days, when I had finally time to think about it all – of course affected by the attack on Cho – I had some ideas about another theory.« She hesitated for a moment. In fact she was reciting the words that she´d spoken with Red John. Then she chose to do it: »They maybe use RJ because everyone _knows_ that this serial killer is dead – shot, to be precise, by Jane. What if, whoever is behind this wants that the investigation against Jane is reopened? They want to make clear that he lied before court. That he shot a man who was innocent in everything that Jane accused him. Timothy Carter was not a nice man, but he was not Red John. Jane´s sentence would prove wrong; it would be clear that he committed perjury, and so he is back in jail.«

Cho shook his head: »Why should anyone put on such a game to get you, Jane?«

»I think it is Levine.« Teresa now said. »He somehow ordered the torturing and death of the men who spoke against him, and he ordered the attacks on us – the team that turned him finally in. And therefore they also worked against the team of Agent Price. He also investigated against Levine and delivered most of the evidence that was used at court.«

Grace asked: »How could he be so powerful to be behind all this? He´s got no connections to the outside and all his favorite mercenaries are also in jail. But wait…« She stopped talking and thought about something.

»Maybe he is more powerful than we expected.« Jane said. »We all made the mistake to underestimate him. We read his file, but maybe even Price did not know all about him. A good villain has his friends, everywhere. We must eliminate these connections, to stop him.«

Rigsby sat down and his facial expression was like as if someone had hit him. »And now it is getting all worse.« he whispered. »With the murders of Mallory and Ramirez… the public knows. Everyone _knows_ that Red John is not dead. Jane will be in trouble.«

»I was in trouble before. It was only natural that the witness called the police. These killings were made on purpose, because they seemed to recognize that we won´t give away our secrets. They had to do something more… cruel. To get their plan to the next level.«

Now Van Pelt got it: »The cell phone! The caller on the cell phone… he talked to me, and surely we can track back the number to someone… maybe that´s the first real trace who´s the connection between Levine and the outside. And there is another thing. I think that I have heard the voice before… not long ago.«

Lisbon said. »Let´s go to the HQ and check it out.«

:-:

When Lisbon and the team reached the CBI it was clear that almost everyone who was annoying must have heard from this Red John attack, and Van Pelts accident. Some reporter teams were already there, speculating about the resurrection of Red John, who – according to the CBI, had been killed. They wanted to know why now there could be a murder done by a man who was already dead, case closed… but the five of them fought their way through the barrier of cameras and reporters, and stepped into the building.

Wainwright was awaiting them right behind the entrance area. »Where have you all been!« he asked. »I tried to phone you all night!« then he sighed. »Nice to see you, Agent Van Pelt. You are fine except of you broken arm, and the stitches, I hope?«

»I am, thank you.« Grace replied.

»We were at the hospital.« Lisbon explained. »They must have a cell-phone barrier there. Could we talk inside your bureau, please, we have some bad news.«

They retreated in the bureau and there Lisbon told Wainwright about the last night, and the attack on Van Pelt; she also explained that she thought that the killings of Agent Mallory and Ramirez were linked with that; also the murder and the torturing of the other victims. The young special Agent was deeply shocked.

»Ok… if you say it was not Red John, then we have to hold this back for the moment. I must talk to Bertram and we must make some press announcement. We´ll only say that we are too deep in the investigations to deny or confirm anything. Is that ok with you? And you, please work on that phone. It could really be a link to Levine and his contact persons. If we can somehow put Levine into direct connection with the murders and the attacks, he´s up for maximum security level, and the death sentence will be confirmed without doubt. But I can´t give you much time. It is Monday now… and… what the…« he rose out of his seat.

Also Lisbon jumped to her feet. Without any doubt there was a trouble downstairs, where the other bureaus were. They both hurried out of Wainwright´s room and as soon they were on the stairs, they saw what was going on. Cho and Rigsby were arguing with two other men in suits. Wainwright and Lisbon hurried closer and could hear them. The men that had arrived were from the FBI, and they were here to get Jane arrested.

»There are a lot of doubts in his case.« Agent Percly from the FBI said. He was a broad-build Afro American man, and he had no need to yell or use an aggressive undertone. He knew that he was right. »If Red John is still alive Mr. Jane lied at the court; and his sentence was based on perjury. This is a really bad situation. We certainly do not want to prejudice someone, but we have to ask him a few questions.«

Rigsby replied: »Yes, that is ok, but you can do this without arresting him. And we will prove soon that these murders were not done by Red John. Red John is dead.«

Cho also said: »You are wrong, believe me. This was done by another person.«

The other FBI-Agent, a smaller black haired man, insisted: »Maybe. But Jane is dangerous, and it is he proved lots of times that he is able to get his head out of anything. He broke out of prison once, and also this time there is a high risk of an escape attempt. He has no relatives or other connections, we must arrest him somewhere safe.«

Lisbon explained: »He won´t try to escape.«

Jane joined the discussion from a distance. He still was on his couch, protected by Grace Van Pelt who had repositioned her desk a little bit: »It was not Red John. Believe me.«

»Everyone could say that. Prove it.« the smaller FBI Agent demanded, then he turned to Lisbon again: »We have an official warrant from the state attorney, and also the lawyer of the Carter family has re-opened the case. We can´t let him go so easily. No matter what you try to tell us… you´ll have to confirm with one hundred percent certainty that it was definitely not Red John, ere we drop the case again. We will take Mr. Jane with us.«

»Where do you take him to?« Teresa asked.

FBI-Agent Percly answered: »He´s citizen of Sacramento County, so he will have his detention arrest in the Sacramento County Jail. But at first we take him to our local office for questioning. This is no secret and if you wish it, he can take his attorney with him.«

Cho shook his head: »Sac County Jail. Exactly what Levine wanted.« He cast a look at Wainwright, who knew the story now. _Do something_, Agent Cho asked him without words.

Wainwright tried to flatten the waves: »I offer you the CBI questioning rooms, and if needed, also the CBI arrest cell down in the cellar. You´ll have every support you need.«

The smaller FBI Agent shook his head: »No, thank you. I think that you have enough to do right now and – to be honest; Mr. Jane feels too much "at home" here. We´ll take him to our local office, and then to the jail. I think he´ll only have to stay there until we reached some agreement about a bail, maybe he´ll get an electronic shackle… but that is the decision of the state attorney. I can tell you, the man is not happy that Jane lied at him.«

Now FBI Agent Percly demanded: »Mister Jane, please follow us. You can have it the easy, or the hard way. But I promise you that it would look much better if you come with us on your own will. We do not need hand-cuffs.«

Lisbon tried to protest again, but Jane shook his head: »No. I will go. They have every right to take me with them. If you want to help me, the only thing you can do, is to prove that this was not Red Johns doing.« He stood up, took his suit jacket and went to the second door of the bureau; without haste, and apparently without any fear.

»Patrick.« Teresa said. »We cannot protect you if you are in jail.« No one seemed to wonder that she was on a friendly "_du-term_" with him all for sudden, so she spoke on: »I am afraid that Levine tries to get you in his hands as fast as possible… he can never know when you´ll be able to leave the prison on bail… so he´ll try soon.«

»I know.« he said, smiling. »Take care of you.« He talked much less than usual, but there was nothing more to say. They knew it all.

The FBI Agents looked at each other, then the smaller one asked: »Levine? Who is that? Why are you talking about that person now? Is this some kind of distraction?«

»No it is not.« Wainwright said. »If you allow it, I will accompany you to the FBI´s local office. We can talk on the way, and I will enlighten you.«

»Ok.« the FBI Agents were content. They said goodbye and went outside.

Luther Wainwright turned to Lisbon and told her: »I will try to keep Jane out of the County Jail as long as possible. You really hurry up, will you?«

»Yes, of course.« Lisbon looked after them with an uneasy feeling. She knew that she could not do anything to protect him. Levine had pulled the right strings. And now Jane was on the direct delivery to him.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: And the winner is… Levine!

Lisbon pulled herself together and said: »Ok, we need to find out who this strange Mr. "D" is that called the mercenaries. It is maybe the only real track we have… We must get Jane out of that as soon as possible.«

»I hope we are fast enough.« Cho murmured. »Jane is no longer safe. I am sure that Levine already expects, that he´ll be in his reach soon. We can only hope that Wainwright gets him some more time, before the FBI Agents end their questioning, and transfer him to the Sac County Jail.«

»And no one of us wants to imagine what Levine planned for Jane.« Lisbon cut down the discussion with hard words. »But drop it now. We need to concentrate on our work.«

It was not much later when Grace announced: »The cellular that this "D" used to call is a prepaid and reloadable phone. It sends it´s number automatically, but there is no contract with any telephone company, so we get no name. I could only find out which company´s prepaid phone it is: _Pacific Bell Tele-Communications_; it was first activated about a month ago, and it was once reloaded since then with an amount of twenty dollars. I now try to find out where this cell-phone was sold; and then we have to ask in the shop. Maybe they remember who bought it.« She was not full of hope, and sighed deeply ere she carried on: »It seems as if it was sold somewhere in the surroundings of San Francisco, maybe in one of the malls of the suburbs. At least the charge with the specific phone numbers that start with "_45" _directly after the company code had been all delivered in this area. But this still are a good five-hundred. It was one full charge. Maybe not all of them are sold, but… if it was a big shop…«

Rigsby also was not very confident: »I know what you mean. It is very unlikely that we find someone who remembers a person that bought a cheap prepaid phone one month ago in a big shopping mall… I doubt it.«

Cho shook his head: »But maybe we´re lucky. At least we have a track. It is the first real track we have. I don´t doubt that we get something out about the two mercenaries; they must be registered somehow or somewhere. But even if we know soon, who they really are; they certainly left no track to their boss. The only thing we have is the telephone, and we have to be fast. As soon as the client knows that the mercenaries are dead, he´ll be cautious. Price and Hollyman run the photos of them with the traffic license registration.«

Van Pelt whispered again: »And I am _still_ sure that I know the voice of that Mister "D" from somewhere. The memory is there, but I can´t get it.«

Agent Hollyman, the black man working for Price, came closer: »I heard you talking about us... yes, we are running the photos and fingerprints of the two men in all possible registration sites, but there is still nothing; only some really old driver´s license photos. Dozens of them, and a few people who´s old pictures would fit, are reported dead. We need a little bit more time, and as long as the computer does the search, I could help you, if you need another hand.«

»Yes. We could need everyone.« Lisbon said. »We´re trying to find out where and when exactly this phone was sold.« She gave him the number, and a print-out of the delivery list for the shops. »And may I ask you a favor, please remain with the official explanation, that the two men were killed in a hit and run car accident?«

»Of course. We stay with that hit and run for the press as long as possible. It is strange enough for us to understand that someone saved Agent Van Pelt´s life by knocking the aggressors down with his car.« He took the list of the phone numbers.

Finally it was Rigsby who found it: »I got it. They booked a bill on that telephone in the shopping mall of San Francisco International Airport. I´ll go there immediately.« He stood up and left for his car, without losing any more time.

:-:

It was a long waiting until Rigsby called them back. They all knew that he could not be in the San Francisco airport mall much earlier than after a one-hour drive, but it seemed even longer because they knew that the time was melting away.

To distract herself, Lisbon retreated in her bureau and looked through the photos she had from the crime scenes; also those three that Cho had made in his bedroom. She chose five from the Ramirez and Mallory crime scene and one of Cho´s pictures, and started to write an e-mail to the address she had got from Red John. It was not a long text, because there was not much to say. She still hesitated to send it, but finally she made her decision... She really put trust in Red John.

Still thinking about the strange direction that whole case had gone to, she was surprised by a phone call. It was Wayne; Van Pelt had him on her land line. Teresa went back to the bigger bureau and joined the talk; Grace had of course turned on the speaker.

Rigsby started: »I have… as you might expect, some bad news. They sold the phone, so much is clear, because they have the bill in their register. This fits the evidence that we found in the computer already; the phone was really first activated the same day it was sold. But they have no credit card or bank card receipt, the phone was paid cash, so we have no connection there. They only remember, that the buyer was an unfriendly, fat and balding man who almost ripped the back of his expensive suit he wore, when he tried to get a quarter dollar back, that fell down next to the cashier, because he was so massive. And the employee that is responsible for the phones told me that this man treated him as unfriendly as possible, therefore he kept an eye on him until he finally paid and left the shop. They had a little funny talk about him afterwards, I mean, some joke-chit-chat between colleagues about that nasty customer, but there is nothing more. I am sorry. I come back now.«

This second, Van Pelt startled: »I know it!« she cried out. »The voice! It was the voice of that attorney of Mister Levine, this Mister Vincent Delanor! Therefore the "D".« She looked at Lisbon. »You remember him too, do you? Fat, balding, and expensive suits, and manners like… a scumbag?«

Lisbon immediately ordered: »Check on every visiting term or call the attorney had with Mister Levine. Compare it with the murders or attacks.« she hurried outside.

They had it all in the computer, so it was fast, and it was almost overwhelming. Seeing it now, it was a big surprise, if not really embarrassing that they hadn´t realized it before. Vincent Delanor had visited or called Levine _always_ three days before the attacks, and, what was even more obvious, immediately at the _day after_ the attack. So for example on Friday morning he had been there personally; and he had a long call with Levine on Sunday morning. The visitor´s section of the prison also confirmed, that the attorney has announced his coming also today. But the guards and the director of the prison did not think that those visits or calls were strange. The prisoner had the right to be visited by his attorney whenever needed; otherwise it was against the law; and of course he had granted one call per day, even Sunday.

It was that very moment when Special Agent Wainwright came back. He stepped out of the elevator and sighed out loud, so that they all could hear him. »Sorry.« he said, when he was close enough. »I am back a lot earlier than I expected. I tried to hold them a little bit longer, but they only listened to the story once and then they had just some questions… They sent me back with the words that they might call if they need further informations. No one of the FBI seemed to believe that Levine is really behind this. They checked their files about him, but according to the FBI information Levine has been quiet and a "trustworthy" prisoner since he was sentenced. They only spent time with me until the attorney of Mr. and Mrs. Carter arrived. Now they are questioning Jane.«

It was a shock for all of them. They never expected the boss to be back before noon; all of them had hoped that they would have at least the half of the afternoon to complete the work. Lisbon informed Wainwright what they had found out, but the connection between the attorney Vincent Delanor and the phone call, as well as the connection between the visits and the time of the murder were very thin.

»I fear this is very doubtful and we have no chance to stand behind this before court. The description of the salesmen in the mall are very vague, and Agent Van Pelt remembers the voice of the man… yes, of course, I believe her, but if the opponent has good arguments, they might say that we´re only trying to talk Mr. Delanor into this. You must work on the two mercenaries who attacked Agent Van Pelt. They must be found somehow. We need a concrete-hard evidence if we want to get them all down.« Wainwright turned round to go upstairs to his bureau. »Maybe I can interrupt them with a call.« he said. »I´ll call them and try to speak to Jane for a while. Maybe this is a good idea…« He went out of sight.

Cho suggested: »I could try and talk to Mr. Delanor again.«

Lisbon shook her head: »No, Cho, do not bother him now. We must know if he visits Levine again today. But follow him, observe him, I mean. Two of his mercenaries are dead. If Levine wants, that we are all finished off, Delanor as the contact man must look out for new odd-job-men. Maybe the two were not the only ones from the beginning on; maybe there are others, which are still under cover.«

Cho nodded: »I will do so.«

Lisbon turned to Van Pelt: »Would you please call Rigsby again and tell him not to return to the CBI-HQ, but to a place where he can observe the main entrance of the Sac County Jail? I am sure the FBI won´t tell me or Wainwright when they transfer Jane into the prison, but I want to know. Rigsby must look out for him.«

Van Pelt nodded, but asked: »And you, boss?«

Teresa explained: »At first I will copy Wainwright´s proposal and try to get a phone call with Jane, so that they have to interrupt the questioning. If we can delay it so much that thes have no chance to bring him to the jail today, we might win a night. They surely have a holding cell in the local FBI building.«

The first attempt to call failed, the secretary informed her that they won´t interrupt the questioning, but told her that they would allow Jane to call her when the session was over and before he was brought to the detention cell in the Sac County Jail. They were some kind of obsessed with the possibility that Red John was still alive, and they did not let Jane off the hook so easy; at least it was him who claimed – maybe wrongly – that he shot that mass murderer.

For the first time that day Teresa really felt the fear rise inside her. It was deadly quiet in the bureau, because also Van Pelt had stopped phoning; Cho had left, and the others were still working hard on the identity of the two mercenaries. What would happen if Levine got him in his hands? What had this mad, crazy person planned for him? Would he be alone? Or had he companions? How many of the other prisoners would help Levine? She was so deep in thoughts, that she almost did not recognize the little noise her computer made, but in addition to that noise a little picture of an envelope started blinking, that attracted her attention.

A mail had arrived. It was the answer from Red John: »_Thank you for the photos, they are really interesting. How is Agent Van Pelt, by the way_?«

»_Why do you ask_?« she wrote back.

He replied almost immediately, that proved her that he was in also in close touch to the internet, maybe on his cell-phone, or on a computer. Never mind how, the answer came fast: »_I promised that you´ll have a friend in me – and that I will help you. Agent Van Pelt is your colleague. Why should I let her die? Nevertheless it was also a pleasure to meet two of the men who abused my work in that easy way. They were not the only ones, but they were set on your team; to track each of you down, Van Pelt, and Cho, and Rigsby_.«

She asked back, trying to stay calm: »_You killed them by hit and run_?« It was really hard to believe that a man that they were hunting for years really had changed sides for this time. It must mean a lot to him to punish the people who dared to abuse his signature.

Red John answered: »_Only one of them. I needed the other man to answer me some questions, before he died. He confirmed me that he and his colleague were hired to look out for the members of your team, Teresa. There are other mercenaries for Agent Prices team and other ones that killed and tortured the two men who spoke before court. I am not interested in the group who did the torturing, because they have not messed up with me, but I will get the ones that killed Agents Mallory and Ramirez. They also insulted me. And I want their bosses, up to the top. They must have ordered them to make the crime scenes look like that. I do not accept that.«_

Teresa read through those lines twice, and whilst she was typing her own reply, Red John sent another part of answer.

_»If it interests you – and I think it will…« _He wrote. _»The two mercenaries I knocked out, also did the attack on you. I asked the one that was still alive; and his answer was very serious – he knew he had to die by that time. I could see in his eyes that he was talking the truth. They did not touch you. I am sure you understand what I mean_.«

Lisbon was shocked; she felt easy and sick the same time, like being sucked down by an ice cold waterfall and swirling round in the water, not knowing where up and down was. She deleted her prepared answer and asked instead: _»How do you know?«_

_»Don´t ask why, Teresa, just be happy.«_ he replied and added a small smiley face. This was some kind of the end of the discussion for now.

Lisbon knew that, but… for this time she really put her trust in Red John. It was like… a second attack of fear: _»The FBI took Jane for questioning, he might be in prison soon.«_

The answer was short: _»Oh.«_ then there was nothing any more.

She was one hundred percent sure that he had stopped the connection now and it was this very moment when she realized that she had not told him the most important part of the new investigation results. She had totally forgotten to write him that they suspected Vincent Delanor to be the contact man for Levine. It was most unlikely that she would get an answer, but she wrote a last e-mail back to Red John´s address, telling him that missing link. As expected there was no answer anymore, she even was not sure that he got that mail.

:-:

A few hours later Cho had informed them that Vincent Delanor of course had visited his client Levine in prison; also Rigsby could confirm this. They were all sure, that Levine knew at least by now that Jane was accused in perjury and that he would be in detention soon. Van Pelt, Hollyman, Price and Lisbon had found out that the driver´s licenses and all the documents of the mercenaries had been false and that they had at least three different identities, all of them stolen from men who died years ago or were missing since a long time. That proved without doubt that those men were professionals, and had at least one friend who was able to get them new identities.

There was of course no connection to anyone else, and the cell phone was cleared of all other numbers and addresses except of the one: "D". They had to accept that they were not much further than in the morning.

It was Lisbon who finally decided: »Van Pelt, maybe it is really our only chance to visit Mr. Delanor again. Maybe he´s giving away some kind of reaction that we can take as a proof for our suspect…« She was interrupted by the ring-tone of a phone.

It was Jane. »Hi there.« he said; his voice sounding light and free, but if one knew him, one could be sure that he was only pretending to be in a good mood.

Lisbon turned on the speaker, so that also Grace could listen, then she asked: »How are you? Who was there to talk to you?«

»I am not allowed to tell you that.« he answered. »I am not alone in the room. This is only the call that they promised you. I could call you to tell you, that they are transferring me to the Sacramento County Jail now.«

Teresa gasped: »Today?«

»Yes, I´ll be there before closing hours. They have more questions for me, as soon as the attorney of the Carters had talked to the jury and the judge. So they keep me there.«

Van Pelt tried: »But can´t you ask for bail or an ankle surveillance device?«

»Not today.« Jane replied, apparently smiling. »Also that will need time. At the moment they do not really know if I am guilty or not, but that is enough to keep me in a safe place. Detention, so to say. But they urge me to stop now.«

Lisbon growled: »Let me talk to one of the Agents.«

»If you wish?« Jane handed over the telephone.

»Yes, hello?« One of the FBI-men answered.

Lisbon asked: »Would it be a problem for you if I come to the prison to have a short, person-to-person talk to Mr. Jane and the prison director?«

The FBI men replied: »No, this is no problem. But you must understand that the detention is out of the question.« He ended the call.

Lisbon exchanged a short look with Van Pelt, then she started off with her car.

:-:

She met Rigsby who was still in front of the Sac State Prison gate, and told him the whole story, then she sent him back to the CBI Headquarter. She also called Cho back to the HQ and told both men to stay there until she would come back from the talk with Jane. After that they could decide what to do.

When the two cars of the FBI arrived at the prison gate, they also only stopped outside and let Jane step out of the car in front of the gate. He was tied up with hand-cuffs and was guarded by the two FBI men who also had been at the CBI in the morning.

Lisbon did not wait anymore and joined them at the gate; much to the displeasure of the FBI-Agents, but Jane smiled at her widely. He was really happy to see her. She did not talk to him right now, but recognized at once that he looked exhausted, they surely had him in questioning all the day.

When they were through the gate and in the building, Jane had to leave all his personal belongings at the storage counter; also his own clothes. He was sent to a separate changing room where a blue prison uniform was waiting for him.

Lisbon collected all his belongings in a brown paper bag and planned to take them with her; that was ok for the FBI and the storage keeper, and also for Jane who returned at the corridor in his jail-outfit.

»While we are talking to the prison director, Jane and you can have your short talk.« the FBI man Percly said to her. »Then we change, you can talk to the director.«

»Yes.« she answered.

A few minutes later she and Jane were alone in the small waiting- or entrance room that you have to pass through to get to the main bureau of the prison director.

»Patrick, I will try that they give you a separate cell, maybe in the isolation block. That is not the nicest place to be, because you will be kept there as a high security prisoner, but it reduces the chances of Levine a lot. He cannot pass into the isolation block so easy. It may be hard for you not to have the possibility to leave your isolation cell for a while, but to keep you safe… you must accept it.«

Jane shook his head: »No, let me in the common detention block. I don't need to be in the cell next to Levine, but it is better if I am somewhere where he could try to attack me. If he does, we have a real evidence to investigate at him. The medical service is really good here, and it seems that we only get Levine hooked, if the bait is in the pond – if you understand what I mean.«

»But this is dangerous… you don´t know what he´ll do with you and when he will attack. Everyone of the prisoners could be his accomplice. Maybe Levine won´t do the dirty work himself, remain only watching, so that he´s safe if your torturer is caught.«

Patrick replied, shrugging his shoulders: »We´ll never know if we don´t try. But… if it makes you happy, try to put me in a separate cell. If I come to think about that now, that could be also good. Levine might go crazy if he can´t get hands on me as soon as I am in here. He will get impatient, and a man who is hotheaded makes faults.« He cleared his throat. »But something else… I promise you, that I keep an eye on myself. No so called "stupidities" this time. I don´t want you to be anxious. Try to relax a little bit. All that stress is not good for you… I am so sorry that I cause so much trouble right now.«

»Jane, please stop that talking, I am fine. But… ehm… because you mentioned that right now… there is something I need to tell you. I think that this might be some kind of disturbing, but you told me that I should be honest to the man who is the father…«

The door of the director´s bureau opened and the two FBI Agents came out. The smaller of them informed: »Agent Lisbon, we suggested a separate cell for Mister Jane, just for a while; so that he might not be able to talk to other prisoners about his case. We do not want anyone out there to know anything about it.« He of course thought that this was an extended punishment for Jane, but Lisbon was relieved; the fact that the FBI already pleaded for a separate or isolation cell, would help her a lot.

When she was ready with her talk to the director, it was clear that Jane would get a separate cell in the isolation block at least for this night.

The director informed her: »The FBI will be back tomorrow for another questioning, they already announced that. If they decide to put them into the common block after that, we will do so. Maybe he will get the chance to be free on bail, but a judge has to look at the case first. That might need three or four days; at least until the primary questionings are ended. If you want, we inform you if we transfer him to the common block.«

»Yes. Please inform also the CBI. We have also a lot of files on that case, and so we are connected to this, if we want or not. More to that, Mr. Jane is a good Consultant and still working for the CBI, until his guilt is finally proved.«

»Understood.« the prison director answered. »But please leave now, I have to read through the reports for this day; within the next hour we are closing up for the night.«

Lisbon replied: »Thank you for your time.«

She went back outside, where the FBI-Agents were still waiting with Jane. Together they joined one prison guard at the corridor when they left the office block. »I will bring Mr. Jane to his cell.« the guard said.

»Ok.« the FBI Agents answered. »Please remember that we will be back tomorrow at ten a.m. We want to see Mr. Jane in an isolated visitors room by then.«

»Yes.« The guard replied, and turned to Jane: »Follow me please. You know the procedure. Be nice, and you will be treated well.«

Teresa took a deep breath, but no one else noticed; that she felt her heart beating very hard. Be honest, be honest. _Three words; how could three words be so difficult?_

»Jane, it´s yours.« she said.

He turned his head a little bit to her, but his face showed no expression. The only sound he made was a short: »Oh.« then he followed the prison guard.

_Oh?_ Lisbon was still in some kind of shock state and he only answered with an "Oh?"

But what else could he do, except of that? Here was not the place to discuss such a thing. Maybe it was a fault to tell him now, but she could not keep this secret any longer. Red John had helped her a lot, finding the truth. Only a DNA test could give one-hundred-percent certainty, but that would need some more time. She would do it of course, but if, he also had to know. Together with the FBI-Agents she left the prison, the visiting time for today was over. They did not talk much but said good bye; the FBI Agents only did their job.

Lisbon was back in the CBI building, and wanted to tell her colleagues about what was going on in the prison, but they were waiting for her with bad news. She could see it on their faces when she stepped in the bureau.

Maybe they had chosen Rigsby by some lucky game, but he had to tell her the news: »We did not want to call you while you were driving; and when you were in prison the cell-phone was shielded off.« he cleared his throat. »We got a call from Levine himself, not long ago. Of course we recorded it, and he must know that we will do so… but nevertheless he called. He must be very sure in his doing, because this call is the proof that he is really up to something. Listen.«

He pressed the play button and Levine´s voice rang out: »I have him right where I want him. You will see, I get him soon, no matter where you keep him. Be sure that I´ll let him so much alive that he can feel everything that I´ll do to him.« An evil laugh ended the call. It was deadly quiet in the room now.

But then Rigsby said: »What if one of the prison guards had changed sides?«

This was a possibility no one had thought of until now, but it was a threatening idea. If a prison guard was involved, Levine could get Jane everywhere.

:-:

Late at night Lisbon was still awake and in the bureau. She had sent the others home, but she knew that no one of them could find sleep in this hours. It was dead quiet, and no one knew if Jane was already in the hands of Levine, or not. Surely Levine would want to be sure that he would not be discovered for a long time, so that he had enough time to torture Jane. And… maybe the isolation cell was in fact the right place for that. Maybe it was her guilt that Jane was in real danger right now. The isolation cells were isolated against noise, and had only a small window in the door. What if Levine had expected Patrick to be in an isolation cell; and maybe that was part of Levines plan.

Finally, Teresa longed for the small paper card that Red John had given her. In addition to the mail address where she sent the photos, there was a cell-phone number.

She dialed it from her own cell phone, and after only two ring tones later a soft voice answered. Red John only whispered this "Hello?" in a high pitched, clearly disguised voice; the kind of voice Jane always described.

»It is me.« Teresa announced.

Immediately he changed his voice level to normal: »Teresa. You call in late. Did something happen?«

»Yes…« her throat seemed to be closed by a big knot. »Please help me once more...«


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Surprise, Surprise!

Patrick also was still awake, but he lost no thought on the possibility that Levine might have an accomplice who made it possible for the villain to get in here somehow. The single cell in the isolation block of the prison was so small that everyone must get claustrophobia within one, or at least two hours – there was only place for a small bed, and a toilet right next to it, a very, very small wash basin and a little table opposite the bed, where one could eat the meals that were also served in this little cell. The table could be folded away so that it lay flat on the wall, otherwise it would be impossible to move in here – one had to sit at the side of the bed to use the table, there was no room for a chair. All the walls were flat and covered with a layer of noise-muffling wall garment, on the inside they felt like old, slightly sticky, grayish leather. There was only a hand sized window in the outer wall behind the toilet to let some daylight in, in the door there was one flap for the food and a small door spy which could be used from the outside, but from the inside there was no looking out. There were lights-off hours and lights-on hours and for one did not have an own lamp in here, the outside had all the power. It must be really hard to be isolated her for penalty, maybe one, two, or three weeks, with only one half hour of exercise in the outdoor area of the isolation block per day. That could break minds, in time…

But not Jane, he had almost forgotten the small room within an instant, and instead of feeling like being kept in a coffin, he lay on the bed, still smiling.

_»Jane, It´s yours.«_ Teresa´s words echoed in his mind, and made him smile a little more. How unbelievable! It was a wonder, really… Yes, of course he remembered that they spent the night together and that they let them get carried away to a place where they never had been before… And yes, they were reasonable adults and should have taken care, but… but… how unlikely is it anyway that they met the right time? It was a surprise, that child was a wonder. A small, little, great wonder.

He turned around once. Of course he would be there for her and the baby whenever they needed him, but he had decided that before. He had made this decision the very moment she had told him that she was pregnant. It had been not important, not even worth a single thought, that the baby was not his. He did not care for that; Teresa was his best friend, he trusted her like no one else and… yes, he loved her somehow. He loved her in a different way than his wife Angela, that was clear, but he needed her so much that he would never ever let her go. And now? She told him that it _was_ in fact his child, he could not be happier, and now, thinking about it, it made a difference... But he did not know if she really wanted him to be so close to her like husband and wife, maybe she preferred the situation to be like it ever was; that he was her best friend and that they would simply hold together without asking. Some day they would surely talk about that, but it had time.

And… he almost yelled out a loud: _»Yuppie!«_ but clenched his teeth at the right time. She would be happy, and so would he. He was definitely sure that she did not lie to him. She could not do that. One single moment he had thought about the visitor she had the night before they had come together but… She would never be able to play such a trick on him; never. She _must_ know what it meant to him, when she told him that it was his child, that he´d get the chance to be a father again; and he knew how difficult it must be for her. He wanted to talk to her but maybe all this needed a little time, and… there was enough time when this case was solved. Uh, this case… as soon as he would get out of the isolation block he would try to provoke Levine into something stupid, by making him nervous and hotheaded. They needed the proof that he was behind this to stop his doing. And after that Levine could not be a threat anymore. What if he somehow managed to escape here or delay the execution of the death penalty for another couple of years? What if Levine somehow got to know about the baby and… let his mercenaries go for it as a last beat of revenge? What a thought! His heart suddenly beat hard. _Never_!

Patrick sat up. He would never allow Levine or anyone else to lay hand on his family or friends again, and Teresa was his family, and also the rest of the team, and… this must end now. But therefore a good plan was in need…

:-:

»And that is, how we will do it.« Levine said to the man who was with him in the Mensa of the Sac County Jail. Lazar Levine was the only one who came to eat so early in the morning, only five minutes after the lights were on again. The man from the kitchen service nodded. They had agreed on the plan how Levine would get the chance to get to the isolation block that evening. The fortyeight year old man from the kitchen service was well paid; and although he had been working for the Jail for fifteen years, and resisted many offers and seductions, this time he could not resist, because he had had only two choices.

The first choice was to get a good pay that would help him into an immediate, good retirement state, in addition to that a house in Mexico just outside Tijuana, a new identity and a fine car, and that he would never be bothered again.

The second choice was that his whole life would be destroyed; the children he had with his divorced wife would die, and also all the rest of his family, his still living mother and his sister; and their children. And after that, he himself would meet death.

So what choice did he have? He agreed on the deal and promised to help Levine. At first of course they did not know for sure where Jane would be kept, whether in the isolation or the common detention block. The kitchen man had the keys to all the section doors, because some prisoners took food or tablets with them to their cells and he had to get them back ere they had the chance to make some mischief with these things. It was also easy for him to get to the isolation block; because he was one of the men who carried the food there and put it into the cells, also he collected back the tablets. He was the perfect assistant.

»Today afternoon when I come back for my night shift I will give you the new keys in your soup.« he said to Levine, when he collected the remaining of the breakfast. They had agreed that the kitchen worker would go to a key-maker today and let reproduce the corridor door key as well as the prison cell keys for the isolation block. To get the cell door keys he had distracted the guard with a happy surprise morning meal, and took the shape of the three different keys with pieces of plasticine, which were hidden in old cigarette boxes.

Levine answered: »Good work. If it works and the keys fit, I will order my friends to pay you another ten thousand dollars extra, in Mexico this is one year of good living. As soon as I had my revenge you can go.«

They had to stop talking, because other prisoners came to the Mensa now. But the plan was set and thanks to good preparation Levine had everything he needed for his little revenge game already well hidden in his own cell. This was a nice day and it only could become better now. He was really looking forward to a night full of pleasures. And of course the silly odd job man here would die, some day – not so far away, his really fine new car would blow up while he was driving. _What a pity_.

:-:

Van Pelt and Rigsby were waiting in front of the office of Mr. Vincent Delanor. The fat lawyer had agreed to meet them this day, but everyone in the CBI could hear from his voice on the telephone that Delanor was very confident that he could get his head out of this again. He had sounded so very happy that they could hardly believe that everything was still all right with him; and of course he offered them a visiting term in the early afternoon, between his lunch at noon and the coffee-and-cake-break at two. But now it was already past three p.m. and the secretary said again and again, that Mr. Delanor was still out.

Rigsby joked, but his voice was some kind of uneasy: »Maybe he suffocated on a piece of his lunch.«

Grace growled: »Don´t say that, if we lose him we might never reveal the connection between Levine and the outside of the prison. And if we miss that link, we cannot prove that he is behind all the attacks and killings. Let us hope that Delanor is safe and sound… and that he feels so safe that he gives away some secrets by chance – or just to provoke us.«

Wayne nodded. »Yes… I hope he´s coming soon. I can´t wait to see this man myself. Your description was…so um… I expect someone like an evil Marsh-Mallow-Man walking through that door.«

Van Pelt sighed: »But it is very unfriendly that he lets us wait so long. It clearly shows how un-important we seem to be for him. And what I hate most of all is that our cellulars are so quiet… Cho, Prices team and the boss are working like mad in the HQ, but they still don´t have anything, as it seems.«

»No.« Rigsby took a deep breath. »It is like fighting against concrete walls with bare fists. We must get a chance to cut off the head of the snake, until we do not do this, it still can bite, so to say.«

Grace replied: »But one good thing is in that we have not been called yet. Jane seems to be ok. They surely would have informed us if something had…« she interrupted her words, because the muffled "Ping" of the elevator was audible through the door. »Maybe it is finally him.« she said, and looked at her watch. It was close to half past three, more than two hours had passed since the original term.

And then the door opened.

Rigsby and Van Pelt both startled and looked at the incoming persons without being able to find words.

There was the attorney Vincent Delanor, the fat man who filled the door frame almost full with his own body, and he was accompanied by… Lazar Levine.

Levine looked smart, had an expensive, well fitting suit, and a very good hair cut. In direct compare with his attorney Levine seemed to be very handsome, but the suppressed expression on his face was like staring in the eye of a rabies-sick wild boar. »Hello, Agents.« he said, smiling and with friendly voice. »I think you are surprised to meet me, are you?«

Rigsby gulped and found his voice: »Mr. Levine? You are out of… jail? How comes… this? I… um… cannot believe…«

The fat attorney Delanor grinned widely, a face movement that looked like as if one had cut a slit into a heap of jelly pudding: »He is free, on bail, I must say, but some amazing new evidence was found that proved beyond doubt that my trustworthy client, Mr. Levine, was only tricked out and lured into a well planned trap. In a trap, that was set by the police! It is as good as proved that he is not guilty in all things that he was falsely accused with. But you, all of the CBI and all of the policemen who were involved in this tragic, disgusting story will have to be prepared. We will strike back with all our might! My client deserves full repayment of all his suffering in the jail – almost three years in the death sentence block! – and he deserves full compensation of all the drama and humiliation he had to go through at the court. I will make you pay.«

Levine said nothing, but there was still something glittering in his eyes.

The lawyer Vincent Delanor carried on his pathetic speech: »Yes, you will pay, and a few of your pack I will get to court personally, because they falsely accused my client, they lied and they insulted him deeply. They ruined his life, and therefore it will hail revenge on them. Their carriers are doomed. And you can do nothing against it, because I think… yes, ehm, Mister Rigsby and Miss… who are you – whatever, you are two of the people we will meet at court, for a very long questioning. And you´d now better go. Yes?« He made a very condescending _hush-hush_ movement with his hands.

Turning to his client, he asked with a voice as friendly as a honey covered piece of cream fudge: »And what do you want to do now, Mister Levine? I am deeply, deeply sorry that I could not insist on giving you totally free travel permission, but you can still travel all around the State of California. Of course, I will pay all your expends until you are totally freed of all charges, and have access to your own bank accounts again…«

Those were the last words Rigsby and Van Pelt heard, ere the secretary had guided them out of the room to the elevator. While the elevator was travelling down, they were both still too much shocked to discuss the matter, but in the car they burst into an angry talk about all this mess.

»How could this be, I cannot understand this!« Grace yelled. »He is accused in murder, and modern slave trade, bribing, and prostitution, drug dealing business and … hell, there is enough! Torture, and… humiliating minds of people, and…«

Rigsby also was furious: »Have you seen the look in his eyes? He _knew_ that he´s won! He´s out and he´s gonna ruin our lives with every might he has. Sooner or later he´ll be so deep inside his business again that we won´t be safe… anywhere! How could they ever let him go, what kind of proof was that! I can´t believe it!«

Van Pelt tried to calm down a little bit: »We have to inform the others, also Agent Price and Hollyman. Surely Levine also has his eye on them. They must find everyone who ever testified against Levine and warn them. As soon as he can he will be after us.«

Wayne replied: »But I don´t think that he´d ever risk his new won freedom in a short-circuit reaction. He´s got all the time in the world now. And we are… the bait.« He was not driving, so he called the HQ immediately and told them the bad news.

It was a shock for all of them, right up to Wainwright, and also Bertram. The heads of the CBI were also in charge when the whole case turned out to be a fake, just a made up thing, and when it came out that they had wrongly accused an innocent man.

They were still in a very upset state when Rigsby and Van Pelt finally arrived back; and there were even more bad news, that came with an official call at six pm. Wainwright himself went down to the big bureau to tell Agent Lisbon´s team about it, and he also handed over a copy of the new matter of concern. The FBI had found a document this morning that definitely seemed to prove that Timothy Carter had nothing to do with a man called Red John. An anonymous sent this document to the FBI-Building in Sacramento; with it there was the legally certified confession of a man who claimed to know Timothy Carter since more than fifteen years, and this person definitely said that Carter was out of the State, yes, even out of the US, when most of the Red John murders were done. So the FBI had more and more evidence against Jane and could keep him in detention for an even longer time; they wanted to recapitulate every single RJ murder and compare this to Jane´s statements, to the whereabouts of Timothy Carter and to the results the CBI had on those cases. It was easy to see that they would need a much longer time.

»The only thing…« Lisbon said, exhausted, to her teammates when it was getting evening again: »Is that Jane is safe now.«

»How comes that?« Cho asked.

»He´s behind bars, still in his isolation cell, as they told me, and Levine is out of jail. From the telephone call we could hear that he wanted to deal with Patrick personally, and he won´t let anybody else kill him while he´s absent. And surely he won´t go back to prison to murder Jane there… now that he´s free.«

Rigsby nodded: »The game has totally turned round now… Jane is in kind of a safe box, while we are… some kind of outlawed bait for them.«

»Yes we are.« Lisbon confirmed. »But, as you thought before, he won´t be after us immediately. I think he´ll try to recreate his network first, and punish us by all the might the law can give him. The final strike will be coming later.« She sighed, and carried on her thoughts in mind. _And maybe so late, that he´ll be going after my child_.

:-:

It was already dark outside when Teresa heard her land-line phone ringing. She had agreed to the proposal to go home this night, only to get out of the bureau for a time. They all knew that it was hardly possible that they would find some sleep this night, but only to be outside of the CBI Headquarter should make some difference, maybe seduce them to watch TV or read a book; just do something else than staring into the office computers or in paper files, and... well, maybe only sitting in the dark, like she did until now.

She took the call and noticed within an instant that it was Red John – or his alias; Jon Herd. He asked: »Happy now, Teresa?«

She shook her head and was instinctively sure that he noticed that movement right though the telephone, then she said: »How could I be happy, with Levine freed again and Jane behind bars? They told me that they´ve found even more proof against him. It´s getting worse. What if Levine really proves that he is not guilty and we lose Patrick instead?«

»Is it, really?« Red John wanted to know, his tone being a little bit offended.

Teresa replied, also upset: »Yes! Of course! It is very likely that Jane is really accused in perjury and then further on in the cold-hearted killing of an innocent man he met by chance in the mall. That could mean life-long or even death sentence.«

Red John said: »It could mean it, yes… but, Teresa, you miss one important detail. And, to be honest, I´m really a little bit disappointed about that. I thought that you´d be… more… let´s say, aware of all things.« he laughed.

»Aware of what?« she was suspicious.

He answered: »Aware of that I promised to help you.«

She was silent for a moment, then a thought came to her: »You? _You_ took care that Levine is no longer in prison? To protect Jane from his revenge?«

»That was the plan.« Red John replied. »Jane is safe, isn´t he? He´s safer than anyone else of you, right now. You asked me for help, and I helped, didn´t I?«

Teresa was speechless. How could Red John be so powerful that he could find such a good proof that Levine was not guilty, so that they released him immediately? Thinking about it, it was a good idea, maybe the best that one could do in this situation. Jane was kept so far away from Levine now that he had no chance to get him. _But…_

She asked: »How comes that you have a proof that Levine is not guilty, I mean, in reality he is guilty in all the accusations. He was correctly sentenced… where do you have that faked proof for innocence from? And who helped you?«

Red John laughed out loud. His laugh was not unpleasant, he was just deeply amused. He seemed to like the game. Then he told her: »It was you, Teresa. You told me the name of his attorney, this disgusting Mister Vincent Delanor. And counting one and one together it was clear that this lawyer only needed a little additional push into the direction he was already going to. Delanor tried to prove from the beginning on that Levine is not guilty. I only, let´s say, had gave him another piece of "proof" to hang on. And then Delanor started to make such a vicious and loud fight against the court and the jail that they let Levine off on bail immediately. So see… it was just a little act from me; the main work did Delanor.« He laughed again. »This fat guy was so happy, as if it all was grown on his own manure heap.«

Lisbon told him: »The idea is great. And you did this all for Jane?«

»Not only for him.« Red John answered, and now his voice was kind of vicious, full of anticipation: »Mostly for me, to be honest. How should I ever get my hands on Levine if he was in jail? He must be outside, free bait, so to say. And Delanor too.«

»Oh.« Teresa said, stunned. »Well this is… I could have seen that…«

The man explained: »Yes you could have thought about this. Remember, I told you that I want revenge on _all_ of them, up to the head. I _had_ to get Levine out of his safe place somehow. He is dead meat already… the only thing is, that he does not know this by now.« He laughed again. »And, what is the best of it all: Mister Levine and Mister Delanor will be the ones that get Jane out of the jail.«

»What?« Lisbon felt like hit with a big baseball bat. A shock, maybe. »What did you say? _Levine_ and _Delanor_ will get Jane out?«

»Of course.« Red John was amused, and his voice was joyful. »They have to.«

»But why, by all means?« she stuttered.

»Oh, Teresa it is just because…« The undertone in his voice still happy, and his amusement slowly seemed also to catch Lisbon; her spirits also started to rise slowly. She listened to Red Johns words with high interest.

He told her: »…because they _need_ him out. Remember, Levine wants Jane dead, he wants to do it himself… and how could he if Jane was behind bars?« He laughed. »They have to proof that the "Red-John" attacks were faked, that "Red John" is dead, shot by Jane, and that someone only tried to copy his work. All accusations against Jane will be dropped, because surely someone will be delivered who confesses that he or they did it… that they did the murder on the CBI Agents Mallory and Ramirez. More sooner than later the police will find those impostor-persons. And most likely those will be the mercenaries that really did it. So Levine hits two flies with one strike. He gets lost of his mercenaries, and Jane is free… and, how he thinks, free bait for him. But in fact, it is all my plan. Nice, isn´t it?«

Teresa was really surprised: »You really _are_ brilliant.«

»I know, but thank you anyway. And so to say… this little game starts to amuse me.«

Lisbon said: »What can I, I mean, we… the CBI do now?«

»Help Levine to proof that I was not the killer of Agent Mallory and Ramirez.« he answered. »For me, in fact, it is the last evidence I need to be sure that Levine really gave the order to let the murders look like my doing. If he now does, behind the scenes, everything to proof that this was all a fake, I can be sure that this was his plan from the beginning on – to get Jane to jail with him. And I am only waiting for that.«

»Thank you.« Lisbon replied, there were no more words needed.

He answered: »There is no need to thank me. If you see it from my point of view, I only did everything to have free access to the persons who abused my work. You are only on the "lucky side" to benefit from my plans.« He laughed again. »Bye now, and try to sleep. You need it.« He ended the call.

Now Lisbon did not know anymore whether she could be happy, or if she should be worried. Red John had worked out a very detailed plan – and everyone else seemed to be only a chess pawn in his major game. But… if he kept his promise, all would be back to normal in a short time… _meh_, not all, she´d still be a mum, but… she shook her head. Maybe sometimes it was better just to run with the pack.

:-:

The next morning she sent Cho and Rigsby to the FBI-branch-bureau in Sacramento. They had to look at the original of the new proof that the FBI Agents had found against Jane, but the same time they brought some counter evidence with them. They both knew of course, that Timothy Carter had nothing to do with Red John, but they had collected everything that was doubtful on this character; everything that proved that there really _was_ a missing link or a hidden identity in Timothy Carter´s life. The FBI Agents that worked that case also demanded all case files about Red John for copy reasons; and told Lisbon to send them over with Cho and Rigsby. Of course they took everything to the car, guarded and watched by the Secretary who was responsible for the stored files. They wanted to start off with the car after they had everything in the trunk, when another phone call arrived.

Lisbon took the call; she was a little bit astonished to hear from the FBI so soon again; only one hour ago they had phoned to let them know that Rigsby and Cho would come to the meeting with all the files and that it was not problem that they´d copy the files; they had the official permission from the CBI directory.

But now Agent Percly told her with a solemn voice: »Agent Lisbon, it happens rarely enough that the FBI makes a mistake, but this time it seemed as if we have been too eager in our work. You remember, that we told you only yesterday, that we have received a letter from a person who claimed to know Timothy Carter for fifteen years? When we first called today, in the early morning, this "so called" evidence was still an important matter we wanted to discuss with your Agents, _um_… Rigsby and Cho, whom we are expecting.«

The FBI Agent cleared his throat. It was obvious that he had something to confess that he did not like: »We… are deeply sorry. We should have taken more time to look at this "so called" evidence. Today, only two hours ago, we got an e-mail; also from an anonymous, who _also_ claimed to know this Mr. Timothy Carter very well. And this time the person who wrote it, said, that Carter was a vicious man who once told something about a great, big _Red-Thing_ he always does when he is bored. This was of course suspicious to us! So we phoned the lawyer, whos signature was at the "so called" legally certified confession that came with the first letter.« He gulped again. »And what this lawyer said, really surprised us. He said he _never ever_ had anyone at his office that claimed to know Timothy Carter. His signature must be faked! The lawyer was almost outrageous that someone abused his name!«

»A faked lawyer´s signature.« Lisbon recalled the most important thing. »So the confession is wrong? Your "oh so important" anonymous lied? The concrete-hard evidence, that Carter was definitely _not_ Red John may be a fake or worse, maybe even a try to trick you out? Could it be, that you got that letter on purpose, to lure you into a wrong direction?« Inside she was smiling. She was poking round in the already existing crack of doubt, making it wider with every word. »So Jane could be falsely accused?«

FBI-Agent Percly confessed: »Yes, ehm… that could be possible. But, whatever, you told me that your Agents will bring more evidence that Timothy Carter has no alibi for the times of the Red John murders? We are eager to see it… if it all fits, we might… _um_, be able to set a bail on Mr. Jane, so he could… _um_… leave the detention in jail, and… um, maybe go also back to work, and so on.«

»Is that so?« Lisbon tried to keep her voice stern and not too amused.

Percly answered: »Yes, but we still need to work on that case, maybe… with Mr. Janes help, when he is able to go back to the CBI. At least he _is_ an expert for Red John, he proved that beyond doubt in our talks yesterday and the day before. There is still the open question who killed your Agents Ramirez and Mallory… if it was not Red John. If Red John alias Timothy Carter is really dead, we have to deal with a very good impostor, and that is bad.«

»I understand.« Lisbon said. »I will hold back my Agents and give them a copy of the Mallory/Ramirez case too, so that they can show you that there _are_ in fact differences between the real Red John killings and this… cruel murders of our Colleagues.«

»Fine. We will meet as soon as possible.«

They ended the call and Lisbon immediately stopped Rigsby and Cho, and told them the news. So they also took the Mallory/Ramirez file with them.

:-:

Teresa leant back in her seat. She was surprised and a little bit overwhelmed too, how fast this all seemed to run now; like the wheel of a spinning-machine that produced the string from which the net of Red Johns plan was woven. Levine seemed to lose no time, even if there was the risk that it could be suspicious to somebody, that – all for a sudden, there were so many new evidences about the Red John case. Everybody who knew the RJ murder series well, knew also that this serial killer hardly ever left any track or evidence on the crime scene; therefore the police had groped in the dark for such a long time.

It was really kind of surprising why this fact should change right now, but the FBI men who were not so used to the storyline of Red Johns doings took every piece of that paper-hunt like a big treasure. Therefore they had taken the first letter – that of course also Levine had written, to get Jane to jail – for the absolute truth; and now they were almost out of their minds for shock, because this evidence seemed to be a fake.

Lisbon was not entirely sure if Red John – the _real_ Red John – had sent this e-mail today to the FBI, in order to plant the seed of doubt; or if this was already the new move of Levine and Delanor, because they needed to get Jane out of prison. Maybe she would never know that, but nevertheless it was good for Patrick… every piece of doubt on the character of Timothy Carter made it more possible that he "really was" Red John, and reduced the chance that the accusation of perjury would be discussed at court.

So she should be happy, shouldn´t she? But still… there was some bitter taste with this all. As soon as Jane would be out of prison, the hunt would be on again; and the vague safety they were currently in, would be gone. For the moment they could only wait… and being damned to only wait… was a situation Lisbon really disliked.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: In the End 

Now it was starting to get strange. Jane had been able to cope with the small prison cell for the first night, and also for the second day. The most time of that second day he had been outside with the FBI-Agents and the late Timothy Carter´s lawyer in the isolation-block-visitors room and talked about the accusation of perjury and murder. He had been really happy this day to get back to that small, quiet prison cell, because his throat was hoarse because of the great amount of talking, and he had been also mentally exhausted. There had been so much to discuss and think about that he was so tired that he fell to sleep almost in an instant; he hardly had thought of the dinner.

But now? He seemed to be forgotten in that small room. »Hello?« he tried it again, and knocked at the door from the inside. He was in this cell almost the whole day now, and even this fact he could only see by the light level that could be seen through the small window behind the toilet. It was late afternoon again; twenty four hours had passed since that door was closed behind him and… nothing happened any more. »Hello-oh!«

In here there was no clock, no sound, no book… simply nothing. Once, a few hours ago, he had tried to let the faucet dripple in the exact time frame of a second, so that he would have at least some kind of thing that told him how much time passed. But this had no effect except maybe one: The time seemed to crawl even more slowly. So he had turned the faucet off again and listened to the muffled silence in his cell.

It was difficult for a man like him to stay calm with absolutely nothing to do. The only breaks in this day had been "lights on", the breakfast and the lunch. Boring, boring, boring…

»Excuse me, is there anyone out there who wants to talk to me?« He sighed. »What a shame. I could provoke Levine now, if I was out in the common detention block.« he murmured to himself. »How nice would that be, seeing him to get wild…« He smiled.

It was strange… why was there not a single bit of information? Yes, ok, he was in the "mind cracking" isolation block, but they could give him at least the morning paper or… someone could call. Wasn´t it his right to have one phone call per day? He wrinkled his brow. Or was the access to the phone only allowed if one was in the common block? He growled, and made a fast step to the door again, to knock against it, and…

»Wow!« In the very last second he stopped dead, his hand already prepared for a mighty knock. The door flew open to the outside and the prison guard was suddenly so close in front of him that he would have knocked his hand on the head of the guard, if he hadn´t managed to stop so fast. He lowered the arm and smiled: »Sorry, I… ehm, just wanted to test if the inner cover of the door is as smooth and slightly upholstered as the walls are.«

The guard replied without humor in his voice: »Follow me, Mister Jane.«

»Follow you? Where are we going? Do I have my half of an hour walk in the garden?«

The guard shook his head. »No. You are free. You can go.«

»I can what?« It was hardly possible to surprise a man like Patrick Jane, but in this minute he was very astonished.

The isolation block had also separated corridors, so they reached the prison´s office block without getting in contact with other jailbirds. At the last wire gate the two FBI Agents were waiting, in addition to that the director of the prison, and also Special Agent Wainwright and Agent Lisbon. She had the paper bag with his personal belongings with her and smiled slightly as a "welcome back", and there was also another thing that she wanted to tell him, but it was not the time to talk now.

The two FBI-Agents took over the lead. The smaller of them explained: »Mister Jane, we can only apologize for the mistake we made. We explained everything to the prison director; your colleagues from the CBI took a major part in the investigation. We have to confess that the letter, from what we thought it was an evidence against you, had been faked. In the meantime, since that letter, we received no less than eight other messages concerning the same topic. There were four e-mails, two phone calls and one report on TV, also a second, hand written letter that was thrown over the fence of the CBI Headquarter.«

Now FBI-Agent Percly had the word: »All the letters either were from "somebody" who claimed to know Mr. Timothy Carter; and they were so different in their content, that we are in very great doubts now. Some say that he was Red John, some say that he was not Red John, one says that he never used that name but that he did cruel things, and so on and so on. So we must count the first letter to this bunch of false or joke letters too; above all the signature of the lawyer was not real. The other messages concerned the murders of Agent Mallory and Ramirez. Even the press knew that there was something about Red John at this crime scenes; we could not keep that secret. And almost instantly there were people who claimed to be Red John, one of them said that he did that to honor his big idol, one said he had done it because he wanted to try how RJ felt when he killed. So we have many persons that claim to be a "new" or "better" Red John – so we are not so sure that the "real" Red John is really back, you know?«

Wainwright added: »And there were clear facts of evidence, that our Agents Mallory and Ramirez were killed by a fare-dodger who only simulates to be Red John. The paintings on the wall were wrong, and also how the bodies were shown to the public. As every one of you knows, Red John liked it, to put on a great show when he presented his victims. At first one saw the smiley, second the body, and most times there were no other blood traces than in the direct surroundings of the victims, where he murdered them. Here we had blood on a window, but not a smiley, only a splattered line; and we found the dead persons ere we realized the wall paintings. So we have strong prove that Red John did not do the killings.«

The smaller FBI Agent started again, clearing his throat: »Well, we are somewhat cornered here. You, Mister Jane, and the team of Agent Lisbon are _the_ Red John experts in California. Would you… um… please take over that case again? We are not retreating, not really, I mean. But the charges against you, that we had started to investigate on, will dissolve into nothing if it is proved that these murders were not done by Red John. We´ll keep in touch with the CBI and your unit, and pass on all further information that we can find to you too. Which means, shortly said: You are free, and back in your job.«

»Thank you.« Jane simply replied. »I will do my best to clear this one.«

Lisbon could not believe it. He had no sarcastic, no nerve racking or provoking words for the FBI Agents, that kept him in detention awaiting a new trial, he only thanked them and that was it. Also Wainwright seemed to wonder himself a little bit that Jane showed none of his typical reactions; but he was happy about it, because that saved a lot of discussion. After filling in a little report in the office of the prison director, they could all go.

Jane arrived at the car, that was waiting in front of the gate as the last one; he had to change clothes ere he left the jail. So he took place at the back seat row; Wainwright was driving, Lisbon sat at the other front seat.

»Have you heard anything in your cell, or did they really keep you in perfect isolation?« Lisbon asked, when they started to drive.

Jane answered: »Yup. My last contact to the outside was the questioning in the visitors room, with the FBI and Mr. Carters attorney. Why? Did something good happen? I mean except the fact that the "big evidence" against me seems to be not so big anymore?«

Teresa replied: »You heard the FBI-men. Cho and Rigsby met with them today to discuss the Red John files and the Mallory/Ramirez murder, and then there were so many messages concerning the reappearance of Red John, that everything was in doubt again. You can look through it when we arrive at the Headquarter. And… Lazar Levine is free. His lawyer, Delanor, got him out of the jail yesterday. But that is not so good.«

»He´s _what_?« Jane had had no clue about that.

Wainwright explained: »We all cannot understand this, because the evidence against Levine is beyond doubt. We never know which counter-evidence his attorney may have. As soon as you cleared the "Fake Red John" case, you will please support Agent Price and his team with the Levine case. We have to see through this before they start a trial at court.«

»We will.« Lisbon answered. _But that might come sooner than you think_. She decided that for the time it was good enough not to talk too much with Wainwright, she had revealed all her suspicions once before, the day that the FBI took Jane to the questioning. She was also not entirely sure what would come next, and above all, she wanted to have a talk with Jane alone to update him, and then with her team. Another difficulty was to tell them everything she had discussed with Red John himself, without giving away her secret.

:-:

Finally they met in the Irish Pub in the evening. They had looked through all new evidence in the bureau, but decided to have the real talk outside. It was dark already, because Jane, Lisbon and Wainwright had been stuck in the afternoon traffic jam of Sacramento and reached the bureau not earlier than six thirty pm, and it needed another two and a half hour for Patrick to be up-dated with the latest news concerning the evidences. The day had been long enough again; but they were not burdened with sorrows for the time being. It was a big relief for them all to see Jane free again, and it looked very good for him; as soon as they had the proof that Red John wasn´t back, there was no need to doubt that Jane really shot the right man… at least for a while. So this part of the trouble would be solved soon, because they were very confident that they could reach that goal. To celebrate this and get a little more distance between them and the hard work and time of the last three days, they had retreated to their usual bar, and took some drinks, while Jane had informed them about everything he had heard, seen and spoken of while he had been behind bars. He had explained that in such a funny way that all of them had to laugh.

»But there is still the threat Levine will be for us.« Rigsby said, changing the topic from the easier part to the heavier problem. »If Delanor really has this proof that Levine is not guilty we might get in big trouble. Even if Levine is not gonna try to kill us, he still can ruin our lives. If we have to go to court… _em_, I mean, we _did_ break in Price´s office, and we lured Levine into a trap, and Jane really provoked him…«

Lisbon shook her head: »There was no time to talk about this in the bureau, and I think that only concerns us alone; maybe Price´s team too… but first of all I want you to know it. I don´t think that Levine will wait so long, until his attorney has put on a new trial at court, to seek his revenge. Maybe he even won´t risk it. We do not know exactly what kind of evidence Delanor got, that made it possible for Levine to go free on bail; perhaps it is weaker than they confess. Maybe they don´t want to risk a discussion in front of a jury because of that… let´s call it, vague evidence. I think Delanor himself did something, maybe this evidence is also faked, only to get his client out.«

Cho was confused: »But why should he, right now? I mean, Jane was in the direct way to Levine, free bait for revenge in the prison. And as soon as Levine was out he had no access to him.« he wrinkled his brow. »You want to say that…«

»Yes.« Jane joined the discussion. »Maybe they changed the plan somehow. We knew that they put on that whole Red John story to deliver me to Levine in the prison, but maybe they now thought that it would be too risky for Levine to have his revenge in there. If he would get me – all of us – somehow out of the prison, he could get away with it, if he leaves no traces, and could still be free. But if he would have been caught while torturing or murder me in prison, he´d be on the straight way to the death penalty.«

»Which means, he´s more dangerous now than we thought of.« Van Pelt said, looking down at the plaster on her arm, which had already the signatures of all CBI Agents on it.

Lisbon added: »And he has to be really sure that Jane gets free of all charges again, so that the FBI lets him off the hook and observation. I think he…«

As if her words were some kind of forecast or this was a strange kind of coincidence, the bar keeper suddenly turned the TV, which had been only on mute screen, and in the background; waiting for the tonight´s basketball match, loud. Everyone in the bar turned round to that unexpected sound and fell silent.

»I am Red John!« a mad-sounding voice of a man yelled that moment.

No one of the guests in the bar had any clue what that meant, because these words lacked every context. It was part of a dark, monochrome video clip with unsteady camera moving. It showed the dark front garden of a house, the scene was only enlightened with the ghastly colors of flashlights, maybe red and blue, but the video was not in much color, it seemed as if one person had just taken a cell-phone-camera with night-scene mode, to film that scene; and he used a flashlight to get more light to it; so sometimes there were more colors to be seen. Jumping up and down the maniac tried to get rid of the two policemen in uniform, that held him at the arms and dragged him between them to their car.

The man yelled again: »I am the better Red John, I am the new Red John, I did things he never dared to, I am famous! I killed policemen, I am very brave! I am better than anyone!« His high pitched, mad voice broke into manic laughter, and screaming, while the policemen stuffed the person into the back of a police car.

Everyone in the bar was dead silent. What was that? It was not news time, but a line of words that ran through the lower part of the screen said, that this were local breaking news. The camera pictures were not really life, but maybe only a few minutes old, ere they have been sent to the reporters. The man seemed not to care much about his camera pictures, because without turning the camera off, he started to follow the police into the house. The pictures of the video jumped up and down very fast, while he was running for the door of the house. The policemen switched on the light and for the flash of a second there was the sight of a terrible, bloody mess that covered the whole entrance hall, everywhere there was the red smiling face, in different sizes, painted with slowly drying blood.

Then one of the policemen turned round and raised one hand to the lens of the camera: »No! No filming, who are you, get out of here! Immediately! If you don´t stop filming, we must arrest you! Go away!« the picture was already darkened by the hand of the policeman, the last words that could be heard were: »Francis, get this nosy man out here!« Then the video stopped with a muffled mix of colors and a grunt.

That moment the face of a studio reporter appeared in a side frame. She told: »We got this little, very interesting video only fifteen minutes ago on our web-site, with the comment that the freedom of the press was violated again by the police. We of course checked it, and according to the local police of Southern Sacramento, this video is not a fake. They are looking out for the man who filmed it because he might be an important witness. And this is what the chief of the police told us: A person from the neighborhood informed the police that there was a big trouble at the house next to him, and that a man was screaming for mercy, and that he heard the name of "John" a several times. When the police arrived, all had been dark and silent again, until suddenly a man with a bloody shaving blade came running at them through the front door. This was when the anonymous must have turned on his camera; absolutely without permission, but they were so much in trouble with arresting the maniac that they noticed it too late. As you could see on the pictures, this is not a professional video, it was made by chance. If you want to look at it again, please visit our web-site, where you also will find the latest updates to that case. Finally I need to say that this is a very interesting development… not long ago there were rumors that a man named Red John killed two law enforcement officers, also in Sacramento. It is allowed to say – without any doubt, that this might be another attack of this killer.«

Immediately after that report the people in the bar started to discuss about it, and of course most of them were shocked; the only ones who had expected it somehow were the four CBI Agents and their Consultant.

And it was that moment, when a very tired Agent Wainwright called Lisbon, and told her: »I think you have seen that report right now, and I am afraid that they will send it again in the late news… the police informed us too. The victim is a man, but they know nothing more, in fact the body seems to be so mangled that they can hardly tell anything. I know it is late and I know you had a rough time, but please have a look at the crime scene, will you?«

Lisbon replied: »This is our job, Sir.« then she ended the call and said to her colleagues: »Let´s pay, and go.«

:-:

The crime scene was horrible, a berserk had done his work there. It clearly was the work of a sick mind, and it would be a hard piece of work to put the victim so much together again, that they could try to find out who he was… but during the first questioning of the murderer the police found out that the man who´s fingerprints were all over the house and the murder weapon was under a great amount of drugs, and still high. He was constantly claiming that he was the "new Red John" and "better than the original" and so on and so forth; and, what was one of the most important things he said during the whole questioning; that he knew the man whom he had murdered very well.

»Yes, this stupid asshole!« he cried out, when Cho tried to ask him again about the identity of the victim. »Of course I knew him, a friend, I thought, my admirer, I thought, I showed him the pictures you know, from my first doing, but he did not believe me.« He choked. The man who still called himself the "resurrected, new born RJ" had disgusting foam in the corner of his mouth now. »He did not believe me, that ignorant lemming, that dumb piece of mud, and I thought he was my friend. He answered that anyone could take these pictures, that they are only pictures, he said! Only pictures! No, they are the beginning of my work, yes, really! The proof that I am like my big happy idol, no better.«

Cho was still calm, although his opposite yelled and shrieked out his words. Kimball only hoped that the man would not start to spit round, or something. »You have pictures?« He said. »That sounds interesting, would you please show me? Then it would be easier to believe that you really are who you claim to be.«

»Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!« the ill minded murderer answered, in an eager voice. He did not notice that this could be major evidence against him, and he had not called for a lawyer yet. »My phone. They are on my phone.« He smiled, when an office came only five minutes later with an evidence bag, that contained a rather new smart-phone.

Cho searched for the pictures with his rubber gloves on and found some photos that really made him silent. There were several photos that showed Agent Prices Team. They were still all alive, safe and sound in these photos, but it was clear that the pictures were taken to spy them out. There was one that showed all four of them walking into the CBI HQ in the morning, another one showed only Hollyman, another was of Agent Price, who bought a newspaper at a store not far away from the CBI. Then there were pictures of Agent Ramirez who had his lunch at a Hot dog booth, and of Agent Mallory leaving the CBI in the evening. The following pictures showed the license plate of Mallory's private car, and then her home house, when she parked the car in the garage, and left for the main entrance; and two other photos showed the house from other sides. An additional photo could be found, where Agent Mallory was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. She was clearly spied out. There were no pictures of the killings, but it was enough to see this.

The mad murderer cried out: »You see, you also believe me, that I did it. Why did my best friend not? Why must I show him that I mean it serious? We could be happy at home now celebrating my work, but… he was such an ignorant!« Now he started to cry. There was no chance to get any more out of him right now, so the policemen transferred him to a holding cell for the night.

Everyone talked about the fact that this crazy killer was possibly the murderer of Mallory and Ramirez, and this impostor must have tried to fake the reappearance of Red John. So the _real_ RJ was dead, no mysterious resurrection had taken place. Not a bit of it was funny, but it was, nevertheless, a good plan. Levine and his associates had lost no time to prove that Jane definitely was accused because of an error.

:-:

Lisbon was still wide awake although the sky had started to get grey again. She had not heard a word of her "friend" Red John that night, but that had not been necessary. All the things that had happened were some kind of self-explaining and had absolutely – _absolutely!_ – nothing to do with Levine and Delanor. Of course she and her team knew that this was totally different, but the puppeteer pulled the strings behind the scenes and avoided it strictly, of course, to reveal his secret. To all the public and all the police, even the FBI, it was only important that they had found and finally stopped that crazy minded Red John impostor. They were happy that this danger was eliminated, and of course that meant too, that Patrick was, for the time being, freed of all accusations.

So the FBI officially dropped the case that morning. Also the Mallory/Ramirez murder was linked to the arrest of the crazy man, and this was the investigation of the CBI. The FBI Agents retreated and closed their investigations, returned all files to the CBI and apologized once more for the inconvenience.

Bertram and Wainwright were relieved and both content that they could concentrate on their own investigations again, without having the FBI supervising them like a pain in the neck. Nevertheless they wanted fast results. It seemed as if that would not last long; the photos of Prices team, the new murder and the crazy confessions of the suspect seemed to fit it all… No one ever asked about the things that happened to Lisbon or Cho; because they never told it officially, and the hit and run in which Van Pelt was injured, was officially counted as an accident that was definitely not related with the murder case.

:-:

It was so quiet as rarely before in the past weeks; and so they found finally some time to talk. »Teresa?« Patrick asked into the bureau, carrying a cup of tea. »May we have a short chit-chat, if you like, I mean, only if I do not bother you…«

»You don´t, Patrick. I also think it is time for a talk. I hope I did not overrun you with my decision… I am sorry, if I did. _Um_… it is just, you know, I do not wish to kill your child. And I am sure, that it is yours. I told you before that the "visitor" did not harm me, and a few days ago I got another proof that I was right.«

»What proof?« he asked, not suspicious, but friendly interested.

She answered: »One of the men that tried to kill Grace said something, ere he died. He confessed that he and his partner did the attacks against my team and me; and that he was ordered to do so by this Mister "D". He tried to free his soul, I think. He said that they only painted me with the felt tip pen, and did not touch me otherwise. That's it, Patrick… so… our little… _interlude_ changed it all. I… do not expect you to… well, do anything for the baby if you do not like, but if you want, and insist on a DNA test, we will do this of course…«

»Teresa, what are you talking about?« he was almost out of words, and placed the tea cup on the table. »How could you ever imagine that? Do you think that is important for me? Gosh, I really thought you´d know me better than that!« he smiled, and for a short moment he could not speak any more, he was laughing with tears in his eyes; then he continued: »It is yours, Teresa, _your_ baby, that´s been all that mattered to me from the beginning on. You´re my best friend, and yes, I love you, I really do love you… and I would have cared for that little thing, no matter who´s the father. Only because it is yours. Understood? But of course I could not be happier than I am now, knowing that it is mine.«

He stepped closer, still smiling with small tears in his eyes: »I´ll always be there for you, however you´d like that to be.« He took a deep breath and tried to smile again. »But… may I be part of your little family, somehow? Perhaps as some eccentric uncle, or a close friend…«

»You could be there as _father_, if you like. Exactly one half of the baby is yours, you know?« She had some tears in her eyes too now.

For a moment they were silent, they needed no words to agree on that.

Then Lisbon said with an amused grin: »But I don´t think that I will ever marry you.«

»You don´t have to, if you don´t want.« he replied. »But now let us have some breakfast tea, and…« he changed the topic a little bit.

A knock on the door made them look around. It was Rigsby and his face was stern. He had of course not heard the conversation, but he came with news: »He is dead. The murderer, I mean, the man that the police arrested last evening.«

»What?« Lisbon and Jane exclaimed at the same time.

Wayne confirmed: »Yes. He fell into withdrawal symptoms in the very early morning hours, the police said his character changed radically from this agitated behavior to deep sorrows and angst. Cho said that the man had first symptoms of the withdrawal when he was still questioning him, but it had become worse when he was in the holding cell. The police doctor treated him against the symptoms, but in the morning they found him dead in the cell. He somehow managed to violate his pulse arteries with a sharp splinter of a ballpoint pen casing; the same pen they had left him there in case that he wants to write a confession. And he did, while he died. The police will send it over to us.«

Only half an hour later they had the confession in front of them, through the blood it was hardly readable, but it said: »_This is the truth and my confession…. At least I want to die with true words in my mind. I am afraid, I am afraid, I don't want to die but I have to, anyway. I need to do it myself ere someone else comes for me. This is the better way. I was the man who faked to be Red John and killed the CBI Agents. It was ordered to me. I killed the man who was my friend. I am afraid_… « now the letters started to get weaker, more creaky and crumpled. At times the pen did not work properly because of the mass of blood. »_This is the end_« was the only thing that they could decipher at the bottom.

Jane sighed: »I somehow expected that…«

They looked at each other. Now it was definite that this case would be closed soon; the murderer had confessed, and he was dead now. But what would come next?

Above it all one could not be sure who intimidated the man so much, that he chose to commit such a cruel suicide. Was it Levine that threatened him beyond the measures of a sound mind; or was it Red John, who somehow had his hand in this? Whoever did drive this man into suicide, this person must have an immense power over the minds of others.

:-:

After all that mass of work and overwhelming events that had kept them busy, the following days seemed to be boring. The whole team felt like as if they were not doing anything at all; although they were back to their usual working day procedure; and the closing of the Mallory/Ramirez case. Slowly enough their exhausted minds and also bodies found back to normal and after two other nights the most of them were back to a good sleeping rhythm, and could recover a little bit. But the storm was not over. It was like being in the quiet eye of a hurricane, so to speak. A wall of big trouble had passed them, but there was still something to come, and that "what there was to come" seemed to surround them in every direction. No one knew from which direction the big strike would come, and what it would look like.

_Maybe_… Teresa thought once_, there won´t be anything, and Red John would take care of Levine and Delanor before they could do something_. But she had not heard from him for a longer time now. They had had more communication, and to be honest she waited for something to happen. Just to be sure, she wrote another e-mail to the address, where she told about the confession of the mad murderer, and that they had closed the case concerning the reappearance of Red John. She got no answer, and that was what she expected. Red John got everything what he wanted now; Levine was out of jail, Delanor too, and the mercenaries, who had done the odd job, faking to be him, were already dead. He did not need her anymore, and it seemed as if he had dropped her, and refused to pick up the contact again. But maybe that was the best. He had helped to get Jane out of prison and out of the immediate danger to be accused for perjury… so in fact he had done what he had promised. It was the best that the strange coalition was over now. Nevertheless, to be honest, a small part of her was disappointed that he even refused to say goodbye or something like that. It was just cut and gone… that was impolite and did not fit him.

:-:

It happened so fast that it was shocking; and no one could foresee, where the blow came from. Two weeks had passed since the suicide of the "Red John" impostor in prison, and they were all re-working on the Levine case now. All two teams that were involved knew and somehow expected the danger, so they always kept an open eye on their surroundings, but Levine seemed to have totally vanished. The Agents could only reach Vincent Delanor, who was strongly on his clients side and very uncooperative. Sometimes they had no other chance than to talk to the lawyer about some case details, because he was Levine´s attorney since the first trial.

And then, one fine September evening, Vincent Delanor could not believe his eyes and ears. Levine was back from his secret hideout, where he had been for the last two and a half weeks. Levine invited him for an eye-to-eye talk in his car, where no one could overhear them. At first Delanor thought that they finally could talk about a term for the new trial, because he had nearly worked his head off for Levine. It was very likely that they would win the case, and get loads of money.

Levine said: »My dear old friend, you follow me like a little dog-puppy admires his master. I always liked that, but now you are not longer needed. I do not want a new trial, because I know that the evidence against me is stronger than everything else. I have friends, who are able to give me a new identity, and I will be back again and free, maybe for a while outside the States, but the Africa or South-East-Asia markets are also full of blossoms. So I do not need anyone else who might know me… but after all you could do me a last favor.«

Delanor was very white in the face now, but still he asked: »What can I do for you? Buy you a ticket out of the state? Do you want money, or… «

»No. I want a trap.« Levine answered, smiling.

»A trap?« Vincent did not understand this. »How could I help there?«

Levine still grinned: »You will be the bait in the trap. The CBI would never expect that I´d kill you, after all that you´ve done for me, and all you promised to do for me in the future. If they find you dead, they won´t suspect me behind this, at least not at the first sight. And when they all come to look at your fat, dead body, they will step right into my trap. I´ll get them all at one time, and then I´ll be gone.«

Delanor cried: »But you cannot do this, I am your friend!«

»I need no friends, I only need tools. And if the tools are useless, I throw them away.« Levine answered and the next second he stung an injection shot into the bare neck of his attorney. A few seconds later Delanor was unconscious.

Levine stopped the car at the side of the Industrial Blvd. Bridge and opened the second front door. With a heavy bit of effort he threw over the bridge side and listened to the disgusting sound when the other man hit the ground about twenty meters below.

:-:

It was a surprise for both teams, when the corpse of Vincent Delanor was found below the bridge about one day later. This area was rarely visited; the old industrial area was too iffy to be a nice place for a walk with a dog or a jogging round. It was a homeless man who was looking for a place where he could spend the night, that discovered the victim. The man was honest enough to call the police without touching the body, although he must have noticed that the dead man must be rich. Delanor still had his thick wallet in the back pocket of his trousers, and a big golden watch on his wrist.

Senior Agent Price took over the case for the CBI, because the death of Levines attorney was strongly related to their current investigations. It was important to find out if Delanor had had an accident, or if he had committed suicide, or if it had been an attack.

»But why should a man like Delanor go for a walk to that area and over that bridge?« Jane asked, just to put this question in the room. »This man hardly ever moved, and I don´t think that he was a friend of walking round just for fun. No, I think there is something more behind that. Maybe our friend Levine tried to get rid of him.«

»You think?« Price replied. »But I do not understand why. They could have put on a very good trial, and maybe they would have won it. And if all our previous investigations were right, Delanor was a major accomplice in that big plan Levine carried out.«

Cho was also suspicious: »And that is why he maybe got rid of him. I also think that we deal with murder. Levine wanted to get rid of him.«

Lisbon said nothing in the discussion. She thought about something else. Red John had told her that he would be out to kill the heads of that conspiracy; he wanted to get his revenge on everybody who had to do with the abuse of his sign. Maybe it was Red John who killed that lawyer; in a way that no one suspected him, just like he promised. But should she ask him? If it was a part of Red John´s revenge, maybe she should try something to… keep him out of it? But he never left traces before, so also here he would have been cautious. But… a promise is a promise.

»One moment please, I need five minutes ere we can go.« she said to her teammates.

Agent Price nodded: »Hollyman and I drive to the office and the home of Delanor to see if there is any note or letter, maybe a computer file that tells us that he committed suicide. We try to talk to the secretary too.«

»Ok, then we take over the crime scene.« Teresa promised. »Five minutes.« she said again. and went to the ladies room while Price and Hollyman left for the elevator.

She was alone in the room, and called the phone number RJ had given her; but to her disappointment it looked like as if this phone was not longer in use. Sighing she gave it up after a second try, but then her phone rang out. It was a new number, but Red Johns voice.

»Yes?« he asked, polite, but a little bit surprised.

She answered: »I assume that you did not wish any further contact, because you have everything you want now… but I need to know whether you killed Vincent Delanor or not… and if you have, is there anything I have to… let say not look at?«

He cleared his throat and answered: »No, I never would leave any trace that one could follow, you know that. And a second no, I did not kill that man. I was up to, and was watching him for a while now, to find out the whereabouts of Levine, but… he´s dead? That is bad, I would have needed him to guide me to his client first. How did it happen?«

»Fell off the Industrial Blvd. Bridge, about a day ago.« Lisbon explained.

»This is really strange.« Red John answered. »You go there now, I assume?«

»Yes, we do.«

»Have fun then.« he replied, and was up to end the call, but then he had another idea: »But be careful… the death of Mr. Delanor does not fit in my plan.« Now he was gone.

»Be careful.« Lisbon repeated his words. »Hm.«

:-:

Only an hour later they were at the accident site. They did not definitely know by this time if it was murder, so the police had lined out the area, but no one spoke of anything but an accident. Van Pelt and Rigsby at first joined the policemen who had been the first to find the body, Cho talked to the homeless man who was the first and only witness; Lisbon and Jane were next to the dead man.

It all seemed to be just an accident. The front side of the body was so destroyed that one could hardly say who it was – if there weren´t the wallet and all his papers still on his body. It was a disgusting view to look at and this time even the men who came here to bring the body away in a special big plastic coffin seemed to be close to vomit, although they were used to see dead people. Two of the policemen with one of the police cars that had been here, accompanied the coroner´s van to the morgue, the other two policemen and their second car remained; so did the CBI Agents.

And then the hell broke loose. The dusk had been creeping along fast, and it was almost night. Suddenly a faint eruption of light disturbed the darkness in the messy thickets around. It was the flash from the muzzle of a gun; but there was hardly a sound, it must have a silencer on it. One of the policemen toppled over, screaming in pain, and ere they really realized what was going on, the second of the policemen was shot at, and went down.

Van Pelt and Rigsby dived into cover behind the police car, but that safety was doubtful, there was a second source of gunfire from the other side, aiming directly at them. They were not safe there, but could not move either. The only thing that helped them a little bit was the increasing darkness.

Cho pulled the homeless man down with him, and tried to get him to a shelter place behind a mixed heap very old plastic boxes and the side of the bridge, but that was useless too. Someone stood at the upper side of the bridge and shot from there. The homeless man was hit directly in the chest, but the shooter at the bridge cursed loudly; he had hoped that he had hit Cho – who fired back without hesitating. It was a constant shooting and firing, like in a mad shooter-computer-game; it all had that unbelievable taste of surrealism on it.

Within a few seconds it was clear that this had been a trap, and this needed no further explanation. The death of Mr. Delanor had been stage-managed to lure them out here. And the shooters all round did not care for anything, they only wanted to see everyone dead.

Suddenly there was the chance to get at least one of the snipers down. Lisbon could see the faint glow of a cigarette, which must be in the mouth of the sniper that shot like mad at the police car, behind which Van Pelt and Rigsby were in cover. There was hardly a place in the car left that had not been shot at already; and still the constant rattling filled the air. Police sirens were wailing in the distance, but they were still much too far away.

Teresa left her cover next to Jane, which had been a rather good place to hide, made a fast jump, two further steps, and then she shot four times at the sniper behind the bushes. She must have hit him; he screamed out loud and his gunfire lost target, went to the air at first, and then stopped abruptly. That moment Rigsby and Van Pelt used to give cross-fire to the man that was on the bridge; to help Cho. Suddenly the aggressors seemed to be in the worse position, but then another man joined the shooting.

No one had seen him approaching, maybe he had just waited at the other side of the bridge in some hideout, but now he came walking through the shadows so surely and straight forward, as if he himself was a ghost. He raised a gun. He was close to Jane now, whom Lisbon had left alone at the side of the bridge, while she´d taken out the one sniper.

But the new arrived man did apparently not see Patrick, who – Thank God – seemed to have the ability to stay in the shadows without moving; but the new opponent had the best position to take out Lisbon. And he knew that he was not on danger, he was out of reach for the other Agents with guns. He aimed at Teresa, smiled, and pulled the trigger…

»Jane! Jane, stay down!« Lisbon cried, when she realized, that Patrick had left the safe site. »Jane, no!« She could not see what happened now, because an unexpected event took every sight from her. A person who came running at her collided with her from the left side and she fell down, but did not hit the ground … whoever had knocked her down, shielded the fall, so that she landed on his body, not on the stone- and dirt-covered earth.

The shot rang out in the same instant; she knew that the person who had knocked her down maybe saved her life.

»You ok? Teresa?« the voice was well known and she tried to get a look at the face of the man next to her, but another sight distracted her completely: Jane was in front of the man with the gun now, and a second shot rang out…

She struggled to get free from the firm grip of Red John who still shielded her with his body; she tried to get her gun, but it was out of reach, she´d lost it when she fell. So much happened now, that it was almost too much to notice it all.

Apparentely Cho had managed to hurt the sniper at the bridge, the man did not shoot anymore. Rigsby tried somehow to make a fast run up to the bridge to look out for the shooter that Cho had hurt, and Van Pelt started to phone for assistance. The time had seemed so long until now; but only seconds, maybe half a minute had passed since that all started. It was only because so much had happened… Teresa could feel that the man in front of her put a gun in her hand, she never knew where he had it from. The very same moment she noticed that he had _really_ taken that bullet for her. He was bleeding from his right upper arm, maybe this was the cause why he could not shoot himself.

And, to her surprise – _or maybe not, if one thought about it_, she remembered the face of Red John, he had been the "doctor" she´d talked to at the park bench in the summer rain, but… this was only important for time of one short heartbeat, then she turned away.

Lisbon fired at the man that was next to Jane; while Patrick – what was most unlikely for him, because he had always shown great respect from all kind of weapons – struggled to keep a firm grip on the muzzle of the gun. She must have hit the man, but not too bad, he only startled for a moment and let go of the gun. Jane was surprised to have the weapon in his hand now, but he still was quick-witted enough to throw that gun away. It splashed into the water of the river. And then Patrick went down, slightly swaying, to hands and knees.

»Let me go!« Lisbon cried, and finally Red John let her get up. Firing her new gun she ran at the single man, and knew at once who it was, when she was close enough. It was Levine himself, and now he looked in terror. He´d never expected a stranger to cross his plans. If that man had not thrown Lisbon down, she´d be severely hurt by now and would not be able to be a danger for him. So he simply started to run away.

»Patrick, are you…« Teresa asked; when she arrived next to him.

He replied, pain-racked, but with firm voice: »Get him! Don´t let him go away! Run!«

Cho also came running out of his shelter to support her; although there was still the second sniper in the bushes. Bullets hit the ground in a line right behind Cho. This was the chance for Van Pelt, she aimed at the distracted sniper, and although her plaster hindered her, she by chance hit the rifle of the man, and it blocked. The sniper tried to find his way in escaping and tried to get to the other direction, closely followed by Grace.

Within one second it was silent, and Red John and Patrick Jane were the only ones that remained at the original site. The sirens of the police cars had come a little bit closer, but were still out of reach. Slowly the man called Red John came back to his feet, while the CBI-Consultant could do nothing more than seek for support with his hands on the ground. Even kneeling was not enough now to stop him from swaying. He was breathing heavily, with rapid moves of his chest. He had never expected it to be so painful if one was shot at.

Red John slowly went to him and knelt down beside him: »Oh, this does not look good.« he said, not in his disguised, high pitched voice, but with a normal tone, only slightly worried, maybe. »This is a right through shot from almost no distance. You´re bleeding heavily. And the blood is very dark. Looks like your liver´s hit.«

»That means I am dying. They´re still too far away to be here in time.« Jane said.

»Seems so.« Red John replied. »In fact I am a doctor, and I can see if one is dying.«

»Teresa´s save, isn´t she?« He tried to smile, but couldn't manage it. »I got to thank you for that… I see…« he longed for breath, to formulate words: »You helped her. But why, by all means… why… you?«

»She´s safe.« Red John, alias Jon Herd, M.D. reassured him, with a friendly tone in his voice. »But let us put all the veils away now, Jane. You know who I am. Don´t you?« he smiled. »I do not have do disguise my voice to make you believe.«

»Yes. I am afraid, I do know you.« Jane smiled grimly. »What do you want here, now? If you want to kill me finally, do it quick...« he coughed.

»I don´t think that this is necessary.« Red John answered. »I could just sit here and watch, if I want. You´ll soon loose conscience. I am almost a little bit sorry that I am the one that is with you when you die. I think you´d prefer her, being at your side.«

»No, I don´t. She…« he took a deep breath: »She´s better off without watching that.«

Red John nodded: »Yes, maybe she is. You asked me, why I am here? Can´t you figure that out yourself? I am disappointed, Patrick, but maybe this comes because you are bleeding out. I am here because I do not like it if someone copies my work. This has got nothing to do with you personally, but you were part of the game, so…«

He interrupted himself, and did something that was almost unbelievable, but nevertheless a move of respect. He helped Jane to lie down flat on the floor, because Patrick did not longer manage it to stay in a kneeling position. The strength was leaving him fast now, but while he felt himself getting weaker, also the pain level decreased rapidly.

»By the way, you can be sure that I´ll keep an eye on her.« Red John said then, with a smile on his face: »And one day, I´ll raise your child as if it was mine.«

»You… what?« Jane stuttered. He started to lose sight, all blackish around him.

»You understood very well, Patrick. And if you don´t like the thought of it, try to hinder me. Simply manage it, not to die; if you want to see your child growing up.«

The flashlights of the police and paramedics were somewhat closer now. Red John stood up and walked slowly away, into the dark.


	12. Chapter 12

Epilogue

_Sacramento, two years later _

Finally it was over. Fulfilling the death sentence was never a nice job, and it also was not really appropriate to sit in the audience and watch it. No one of the CBI had been there; in fact there had been _nobody_; except the prison chaplain. No one had been there who wanted to say last words to Lazar Levine, no one who wanted to say goodbye; not even anyone who really wished to see him die. No one cared for this man anymore, and maybe, in these last minutes, he really understood what he had done and what a monster he had become. He was alone, had no friends or relatives, and also his victims seemed to have forgotten him. The governor did not interfere with the death sentence. Since that bad, last shootout with the police at the Delanor crime scene it was as clear as crystal that Levine had his hands in this, and a lot of other things.

Lisbon sighed, when she put the last file map into the card box that contained everything they had about Lazar Levine. Then she closed the top, fixed it with tape, and wrote the words "Case Closed" at the front of the box.

For a second she was back at this night, but it were only flashes of memory; loose, apparently having no link to each other, and also the chronological order of the events was completely disturbed – as it often happened with old memories.

She saw herself next to the body of Delanor, and in the next flash she was running after Levine, who put all his hopes into his flight. Cho was running besides her, and he was apparently faster than her, catching up to Levine like a cheetah on the hunt.

_Next thought_. Rigsby had found the sniper on the bridge, but there was no help for this man – he was dead already. Later they had found out that Cho´s bullet had hit him in the right knee and shattered it; making it impossible for him to run away, and that he had committed suicide with his own gun, ere he could be taken to prison.

Suddenly she remembered a scene of the first day at court – the words that the other sniper said: »Mr. Levine did not only offer us payment, but threatened all of us with cruel torture and death if we did not follow his orders. We had to hang this man in the woods, and torture the other one and his wife.« He had got life-long for his doings. _Flash back in time_. This sniper had been caught by Van Pelt, and her arm had been still broken at the time when they were at court. She had used her plaster to knock the man down and hurt herself again because the shattered two pieces cracked her still unstable bone again, but she had him unconscious, so he had not been able to kill himself. A good move; not usual, but efficient.

Lisbon shook her head, and put the heavy card box to its final place in the file store room, and left the room. While she was closing the door, she cast a last look at this card box, and swore to herself that from now one Levine was a ghost of the past, and not worth any more thoughts. Teresa locked the door and went back upstairs, to the others.

It was bright sunshine, a nice summer day, no clouds in the sky. Down in the cellar she almost had forgotten how nice that day was. Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt looked back at her. All were relieved that the case was finally closed, and they all knew that she had been down in the cellar to take the file box away. When she looked over her shoulder to the small kitchen, she saw Agent Price and Agent Hollyman, talking; while both were waiting for the coffee machine to be ready.

Price also smiled at her. For him, this case had been even longer, because he had been working at it for years… long before Lisbon´s team first had made contact with Lazar Levine and his associates.

That moment, a young, ambitious woman joined Price and Hollyman; she was there to get some water. It was Agent Clara Harker, one of the two new teammates of Price.

Lisbon walked on, to her own bureau, noticing the empty place of Jane with a short sigh. She was used to it now; but when she had returned from maternity it had been really strange, sometimes almost unbelievable that he was not there.

Shaking her head, to get finally free of this dark thoughts, she opened her door of her own, smaller bureau and sat down at the table. Although the big case was over now, there were still the other ones that kept them busy. Luckily there had been no murders in the last two weeks – boring for Agents, but in fact, that was a good thing. No job meant no dead people. She could use the time to catch up with all the things that were still waiting. Since she had returned from maternity she had only carried half-day shifts, mostly from nine a.m. to one, or two in the afternoon, if it were regular days. Of course, when there was an investigation where she had to be at the crime scene, she had also full days, but she tried to be at home as much as possible, to spend time with her daughter Stella.

Thinking about her, she looked at the little photo in the frame on her desk. Her baby was growing so fast! This photo was only about three months old, and the girl had changed so much in this time, that it was hardly unbelievable. She smiled. Everyone from the team knew her daughter, and they liked her very much.

Now and then, one of them had taken care of the little baby for a few hours, and they always asked for some more "baby-sitting-time", and were always happy when they saw her.

Stella looked so much like her father – even more now, than those three months ago. She had his blonde, slightly curly hair, and his eye color, combined with his wide, one-million-dollar-smile. And she already knew how to use that smile properly, although she was only one and a half years old. Maybe this was the first thing ever she learned from her experience – to get everything what she wanted with that sunny, overwhelming smile.

The first look at her had been enough to prove a thousand percent who was the father; everyone said that. To see the parts Stella got from her mother, one had to cast a second look; but then it was also clear. She had her face-shape and nose; ears and lips. But the most important thing was, that Stella was healthy and happy.

One thing Teresa remembered very closely now. Once, when she was still in maternity but very close to her return, she had brought Stella with her into work; because there was an immediate call from Wainwright and she had not found a babysitter so fast. Somehow Stella had managed to escape from her bureau, although at this time she had still been crawling on hands and knees to get forward. But the little girl was quick, almost as quick as her father in disappearing, when something bad had happened. The whole team had searched for her; and when they finally found her she was fast asleep at the couch in Bertram´s CBI-Headquarter bureau; and the director personally kept an eye on her.

Again Lisbon shook her head. She had to concentrate on the work now, to prepare everything that had to be done this afternoon. Sighing, she looked at the clock. She loved her work of course, and had tried to come back as fast as possible, but on such a nice summer day it would be also fine to be at home and plan a short trip to the next "Aqua-Park" or an evening trip to the sea. Stella would love it. Since a few weeks she could walk without help. She had started to try to get up and walk maybe some time later than other children, but she had learnt it so fast that there had been almost no time to get the house safe for a "walking and running" baby which could get to much more places now. And totally like Patrick, everything was interesting. Everything she could touch or try out was worth a visit, and she always found new interesting things.

Again Lisbon looked out of the window. Yes, an evening at the sea, at a quiet corner on the sandy beach would be nice. She concentrated on her work and noticed that she got through it with a real good speed. One hour later she picked up the telephone and called her own land-line-number.

The call was answered with a short: »Yup?«

»Hi. Do you know what I thought of?« Lisbon started to explain. »It would be nice to spend the evening at the Courtaly Cove Beach, or somewhere like it. Could you come over here with Stella? To the CBI I mean? It would need too much time if I´d come home first. If you get her here, we could spare at least one hour.«

The answer came immediately: »Of course come. It´s a good idea. See you there, but when? When would you be ready to leave?«

»I should be ready at one p.m. Can you take the little swimming-device for Stella too? Maybe the water´s warm enough to jump in.«

»No problem.« There was not much more to say, so they ended the call again.

Now Teresa concentrated even more on her work and was ready half an hour earlier than planned, so she started to clean up her bureau a little bit; had a short call with Wainwright, and then she went outside.

»Folks?« she asked into the big bureau with a smile.

Rigsby, Cho and Van Pelt looked at her.

Teresa said: »Pack up your things, all of you. It´s such a nice day, and I talked to Wainwright. He gives you the afternoon free. If you are ready with the current page of your work, or whatever, you can go too.«

Rigsby exclaimed: »That´s great, thank you!«

No one left immediately; they all remained at their places to finish the work first.

Then Teresa said, to make them move: »If you want to see Stella, they are coming here, to pick me up at one. I think she´ll be happy to see you again.«

After these words, the other three Agents worked much faster and went down with Lisbon to the parking lot. It was not too late, but exactly the right time. The white, SUV-like car stood at the parking lot´s barricade. The guard there also knew Stella and waved through the window, then he opened the barricade and let the white SUV pass.

When the car stopped, Patrick opened the front door, got out and freed his daughter from the child´s seat. She waved her hands at her mom, came running towards her and embraced her for a moment.

»Mummy!« she said. »We go beach?«

»Yes, darling.« Teresa answered, but her daughter did not listen, she had spotted the others behind her mother.

»Cho! Ribsy! Vanbelt!« she exclaimed. Although all of them knew that she already was able to say their names totally right, they did not complain. Maybe it was just another, new trick of her, to talk like a babbling baby – to be more "sweet and lovable".

Jane stretched his arms, and also came closer. »The day on the beach is a good idea… she´s like hurricane today. There was no quiet minute – she always wanted to learn or do something. We started with that Music-Domino thing, and then she saw a butterfly at the window, and so we went outside for a little walk in the park. She had a little nap in the buggy and once we were at home, she was wide awake again. I thing she won´t sleep until the evening. But that's ok, we´ll build a big sand castle at the beach, I´ve got all the beach equipment in the trunk. She´s already covered with sun-blocker all over.«

»Ok, then let´s go.« Teresa decided. »Stella, you coming?«

Van Pelt and Stella were playing catch me – if you can in this moment; the legs of Rigsby and Cho were the hiding places. They were laughing like mad. Patrick rushed forward and grabbed his giggling and squealing child from behind, picked her up, and held her at eye-height to the others. She stretched her hand out and said. »Bye-bye.«

»Bye, Stella.« Cho said for all of them. »Hope to see you soon.«

When they were back in the car, Lisbon was driving, and Jane sat at the second front seat, next to her. Stella was busy looking at the pictures of a little children´s book.

»So you closed the Levine case?« Jane asked. »You found my notes at the table?«

Teresa replied: »Finally, yes. I´ve added your notes to the case, and put it down to the storage. I am so happy that this is over.«

Patrick nodded: »Yes, me too. I still can´t believe that Red Jon joined our side somehow in this case. And that it took almost a _full year_ ere you told me about this. The others still do not know, do they?«

»No; I think it is better that way. And the case is over now. Let us try to forget this man… Levine, I mean. I told you that Red John only kind of helped us, because he also wanted revenge. He was not really on our side. It only seemed so.«

Jane smiled: »He told me that too, when we met after the shootout. But he saved your life, and Stella´s… what if that madman Levine had really hit you with his bullet?« He cleared his throat. »And… he saved my life too, somehow.«

Teresa startled: »Why that, Patrick, you never told me…«

»Yes, I never told you the last words he said to me. I said I could not remember them properly. But that was not a big lie; I was almost unconscious by then. But yes, he saved my life. I am pretty sure about that.«

»Don't try to talk me in, tell me, what it was. Is it so important that you kept silent for two years? Wasn´t that really hard? Or did you think that it would disturb or scare me?«

He nodded: »Yup, because he used a very strange way to keep me alive. He reassured me that I do not have to worry if I´d die. He told me that he´d take care of you and my child instead of me; if I am not able to do it.«

Teresa was silent for a while: »I never expected that.« she finally said. »I thought that he did something to stop your bleeding or something, because he was a doctor… but this… sounds really weird.«

»It was.« Patrick replied. »It was really scary, and threatening. But in fact it gave me more strength than if he had tried to comfort me or if he had said something nice. It gave me the strength to hang on to life, not to give up, because I _never_ wanted that to happen. I never wanted him next to you or my baby. You remember – by then I did not know that you had talked to him before, and that you already knew him. I thought that he planned to creep into your life somehow, making friends with you, and... whatever.« he smiled and shook his head. »It was the _worst_ and the _best_ thing he could say to me in this situation. Maybe everything else would not have been strong enough to keep me alive until the paramedics arrived.«

Teresa sighed: »And you kept this secret for so long?« she also smiled.

»Yes… sometimes I wanted to tell you, but… then I decided the other way round.« He sighed. »Now that Levine-case is finally over; and this was a part of it. It had to be said.«

»I know.« Lisbon answered. »But let us put that back now; put it also to the storage room, now that the Levine Case is closed. We´ve got a turbulent future to come, and first of all, a nice afternoon at the beach.«

»You are right.« Jane said.


End file.
